My heart is broken,
I am broken.
Putting the pieces
back together it seems
starts from the outside
and works in.
Start with the shell
So that
to the outside
I look whole.
I walk, I talk,
I sit, I work,
I speak, I laugh.

The shell of me appears.
And the world can go on.

Inside are the pieces,
tiny shards of me
rubbing, scratching,
scarring, chaffing me.
from the inside

Bringing shivers,
rawness, and strain

Constrict my throat,
burn my stomach,
pierce my heart,
These shards of me
not to be willed back together

but the shell shows no shame