shredded

my little heart is torn up today. in tiny strips that resemble scraps of newspaper. they're littered with fragments of words. spoken and not. promises kept and broken. pieces of black and white photographs of moments burned in. sage advice. holy texts. lies. and truth. i have half a mind to put them out on the porch and let today's cool breezes carry them away. they would be of better use to someone feeling the same things than they are to me at this moment. but instead i frantically try to gather them off the livingroom floor. out from under the sofa. from atop the bookshelf. and behind my favorite dress hanging in the closet. i'd hot glue them back together. but i am out of glue sticks. and out of time. and out of hope for my present situation. tomorrow may look brighter. but today is torture.