It feels like a huge gash—
from my right collarbone down through my chest.
It's a hole that's restrictive—
an emptiness where air should be.

...Why does it feel so profoundly pathetic to need oxygen?

It wasn't real.
It still feels like shredding air being torn from my lungs.

I want to blame him,
but I think I'm the one
that tore out my heart.
I wanted him to see me so badly—
I had to rip it out— to show him.