cor aut mors
previously published on livejournal, june 2010
it starts with a small crack, and then it shattered into pieces.
i survived with whatever that's left behind, a small portion of my heart.
it keeps breaking. there's nothing much to do except to pick up the pieces, put it in a box, and kept it somewhere secret.
why? because nobody wants to see messy broken things on the floor.
nobody.
"i wanted all things
to seem to make some sense,
so we could all be happy, yes,
instead of tense.
and i made up lies
so that they all fit nice,
and i made this sad world
a par-a-dise"
-- kurt vonnegut