Break me, I said, and everything I am.
For if I was whole without you,
I was nothing,
but an echo inside an empty shell.
But if I'm broken,
because you broke me,
then that makes me whole again.
In the fractured pieces, I find
the mosaic you made of my soul.
You tear me apart,
and yet somehow, Iâm whole.
For I'll be damned, if I stay intact,
because I can't be whole with you near,
I crave the ruin, I asked for it,
So you give it to me, bit by bit.
Love isn't supposed to hurt, they say,
but what do they know of this fire?
I'd rather burn in your hands
than be untouched by the flame,
untouched by this painful desire.
You could break my heart into pieces,
and with my last shattered breath,
I'd whisper an apology
for making a mess of your hands.