I don't think my heart was put together straight
because it doesn't know who to love
and it doesn't know who to hate
I think it may have a glitch
a missing piece, a bruise, or a hitch
Something was miswired
or got put back together wrong
Because what I think should be sure and strong
is fickle, wavering, and unsure
and what's supposed to be clear
is hopelessly crooked and only a blur
I think my heart may be broken
or might have a crack
So please don't love me
Because it doesn't know how to love you back
About the Creator
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there is more to this than what's happening
“How big will the incision be?” was the first of a list of questions I did not think to ask before brain surgery. I was honestly surprised they weren’t going to pull the tumor out of my ear with some sort of laser tweezers. I remembered just getting home on a sunny afternoon and answering my neurosurgeon’s PA’s call on my car’s bluetooth, parking in the driveway, and listening as she explained the surgery process. She told me they would make an incision, peel back the skin and the muscle… and then my consciousness started spinning. My roommate smiled and waved and I smiled and waved back. I could feel myself dissociating as she spoke. I snapped back to the conversation when she asked if I had any questions; “No, sounds good– see ya Tuesday!” Casual.
By Kayla Reiter4 years ago in Psyche
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