Privilege

What a privilege it is
To have my heart broken by you
It caused you to be the protagonist
In oh so many songs that I wrote
You’re the core of so many poems

How lucky my heart is to have fallen into a million pieces
By such a beautiful destructor
Your words broke my heart, like hammers break the glass
Like a knife they leave cuts, in my flesh, awakening the flow of blood
But how can a wound be so painful and so beautiful at once?
How can you still love someone even though they crushed your heart?

Call it naive or call it hopeful
Call it stupid or call it joyful
The pain you cause me is a sign that you’re still around
And that what it’s all about
Isn’t it?