The broken, the beautifully broken.

You are so beautifully broken....

You've taught me that there has to be such caution, precision, and tactic when handling a broken soul; In order not to break oneself, in the process of repairing someone else's damage.

"Repairing the damage", I say ...

As if someone could really repair a damaged being....

I thought I could;
Because I saw the beauty in your wounds....I felt the pain in your eyes.... and I let that mask all of your unjustifiable actions...

Like "he's okay, he's just a little broken.. he doesn't really mean that.. he's just angry, mad, hurt.."

In order for wounds to heal one must want help... one must seek aid of some kind...one must nurse them..allow time to run it's course... allow open wounds to scab over, generate new tissue, close....

You never seeked help... You never nursed your wounds... You never allowed me to aid.

It's almost as if, you became accustomed to the pain.....

Being broken facilitated tearing apart anything you got a hold of... and you... you came so close to breaking me.

You blame others for the pain you inflict on yourself....

You inflict so much pain onto others....

As if, that would rid you of all the hurt you've had to bare throughout the years...

As if, for every tear shed for you, you could recuperate one....

Experiences molded you into a monster.

A beautifully broken monster.

And that's what experiences do....

They either sharpen or soften our edges.

I fell in love with you, you beautifully broken monster ....

But I wasn't willing to break in the process of repairing damage that I hadn't done.

I could never heal you...

I could never take away your pain...
because that's the only thing you have left, besides your solitude.... and you fell in love with it's presence in your life, and the way it facilitated and made all of your foul actions justifiable...