Love flows like blood. It fills your heart when things are good, and quickly bleeds your heart dry when it's bad.

It's been so long it hadn't occurred to her that she's allowed to be happy. Her heart aches to be held, but not by the man she promised it to. He never really existed. He was only the man she wanted him to be. Like the wife she wanted herself to be, and the life she wanted them to have. The life she thought they were suppose to have. Someone forgot to tell her that what is 'suppose' to be is not what you end up with. She really believed that those spaces between her fingers were made so that another's could fill them. But when those spaces turned up empty so did her heart. She believed that if she was alone, he would be her shadow. If she wanted to cry, he would be her shoulder. She believed that the nook between his smooth neck and soft shoulder was made specially to fit her head.
People sometimes describe their world shattering, and now she knew how that felt. She knew that it was actually possible for a world to BE shattered.

She bent, desperately trying to grab all of those shattered pieces, so she could just put them back together. Although when she started picking those pieces up they sliced into her flesh like hot razor blades. She didn't stop. She stayed there, bent in the midst, of her shattered life, clawing at those deadly sharp pieces.

She stayed there for years. It occurred to her years ago that those shards in her hands, that had sliced her hands so deeply you could see the bones, would cut thru those veins in her wrist as easily as a warm knife thru butter. Her hands had finally gone numb. She figured that she wouldn't feel much and that it should only take two good cuts. She knew at that moment that was what she had to do. The pain and anguish that had been injected straight into her heart now rushed thru her body through those veins. She knew the only possible way to get that intense pain out of her body was to let it slowly drain out of those veins.

It was darker then she thought it would be, but also a bit sticky and warm. The warmth running over the palms of her hands felt soothing. She embraced the feeling of the warm, sticky pain leaking from her veins. She watched, calmly, as the pain began to stream onto the floor and filling up those open gaps inbetween the shattered pieces of her life. After so long, living in deep black hole, it was at this moment that she finally felt a calm release. She closed her eyes, and quietly, peacefully, sat there waiting for every last drop of that pain to drain, and waited to be lifted into the light.