no. 6 // details of a broken heart

I stand outside the building. Everything around me blurs and I can only focus on the light streaming through the blinds on the door. Shadows dance across them as people move around, living in sweet oblivion to the one just outside, the one who cannot come in. The door isn’t locked, I could walk right in if I wanted to, and I do, I so desperately want to walk through the door. I ball my fists in frustration as the tears well up in my eyes. Why did I have to become so attached in the wrong way? I can still see the traces of me that I left inside that house. I’m there at the sink washing dishes. I’m sitting on the couch watching a movie. I’m dancing in the kitchen and the living room like a fool. Sweet memories flood my mind like a tsunami, and I collapse. Pavement greets my knees like an old friend, asphalt digging into my palms. Sobs wrack my body and with every breath I suck in, my body shakes even more. Too much emotion has been bottled up or shoved away, and this is where it led me. It is a curse, this ability to know people so deeply before they even know you, to see the best and what can be in someone, letting that steal your heart. Potential is a dangerous trap and a horrible lover. The sobs turn to screams and I pound my fists against the ground, my anger boiling over. I pause and take a deep breath looking back up at the door. Would they want to know the truth? Would they look at me differently if I told them that I could not go back into that house? The thought of their questions frightens me and brings a fresh round of tears as I look to the sky.

“Why would You let me be friends with these people? Why would they come into my life now, when I just wanted to try to be better about spending time with You?” I shake my head.

“WHY?!” I scream. “Why would he seem like everything I thought I wanted but be lacking in one area? Was he to show me what I hope for can exist, but to push me back to You? Was he the tool that I needed to wake up and see You as the Lover of my soul? He was so wonderful but so painful. I still want to be friends, but, oh, how it hurts! My heart is always heavy with this fear of still feeling for him when he comes around, for being concerned with what he is doing and where he is going and how he sees me.”

The once bridled emotions that had become a raging storm begin to finally settle down. My head drops, my breathing slows. Most of the tears have stopped, and my gaze slowly drifts up to the door once more.

“Why did I let him have so much power? Why was I so blind?”

“Because through him you saw how desperately you needed Me. You saw that you could love a flawed human being, but you wanted them to know Me just as much as you knew you wanted to love Me. The pain of him not showing that interest pushed you back into MY arms.”

I stare at the light coming from the door and dwell on the truth planted in my heart. If broken love is a painful tool used to push me back to Perfect Love, maybe there is no other place for me to sit than on the ground outside this house. All my defenses are gone, only the shattered pieces of my heart that I thought ready for love are spread out here on the pavement in front of what was once my misplaced hope. If I am to be broken for a better love, so be it. // December 9, 2017

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