I lie here, in my self-made bed of thorns, where you left me. Broken and worn, I sleep. I dream of a time when you loved me, when you were my half and I was yours. The shards of my heart lay heavy in my chest, stabbing into me. The pain keeps me alive, keeps me awake, alert, even when I don't want to be.

My mind is chaos eternal. Thoughts of who and what and where. My fault or your fault. Questions of blame run unchecked through the streets of my brain. The words lay jumbled like a word search: the meaning is there, yet I cannot find it.

My bones ache with an unknown ailment. My muscles lay dormant inside me, I have no use for them now. My legs seem paralysed, for I do not have the heart or the strength to move them. Lungs breathe in air, then exhales, almost like a robot, automated.

Eyes red like blood, seeing nothing but unfocused shapes and blurs. Mouth curled into an eternal frown, never again to release a happy smile. Fingernails worn dull and useless, nervousness has taken it's toll.

My memory plays games with me, pushing faces, times and places unbidden into my mind. I name one, another comes.

All and all, your love has taken its toll. Broken me into shreds, revealing raw emotion and desire. Yet, in the midst of self-hate and depression, a spark of hope emerges. A new me. Reborn, stronger now.

One day, I will be able to say: I survived. I survived your love, and was better for it.

I will move on.