Just beneath the surface are a 1,000 lonely tears
I’ve done so much to tame them
And hide from all my fears.
Occassionally they surface;
They expose my brokenness
The fall so incessantly
They leave me a broken mess.
Once these tears start falling
There’s no stopping all the rest
Every wall I build to keep from being vulnerable
Comes crashing down right and left.
I lie daily about being lonely,
About the pain of no one there.
I thought years of riding solo
Would mask the pain when no one cares.
Broken people rarely know that they are broken. They’ve spent so much time functioning at half capacity that it feels familiar.
What whole people see as love is obscure to broken people. The fragmented pieces seek immediate gratification; anything that takes longer poses a threat to their false sense of security.
That’s why broken people gravitate to self sabotaging activities such as promiscuous sex. Sex gives immediate pleasure; even if temporarily. The high masks the cracks that their souls slip through. The warmth, the intensity and passion encompasses the metaphor of love. If only fleeting.
When I find myself longing for that false sense of security I know my cracks must be exposed. Sex is the cheap plaster I use to cover up the ugliness of my brokenness.
Reveling in the actuality that there is a man who can love me back together makes me laugh. It’s not even a wishful thought. I think I may be too far broken to be salvaged. So I treat myself as cheap and lie with wolves.
How do you love a broken person? One piece at a time. But just know you cannot be their glue; that is too much responsibility. If you ever let them down; even minimally, can send them back into their self-protective shell.
Brokenness can hinder passion greatly but isn’t a death sentence. Since love is patient and kind, showing that to a loved one exhibiting broken behavior will eventually help restore them back to completeness through your faithfulness and loyalty.
Is there someone who lingers on the end of every thought, fills your dreams and hope of better days? Have you told them? Does something hold you back?
Why is it we have courage to do some of the most dangerous activities in life but find pause when it comes to opening ourselves to another?
Maybe the memories of painful experiences run deeper than actualizing our hearts desire.