My heart is slowly breaking
the cracks formed over time,
are spreading ever faster
with each passing day
of bad luck,
and missing friends,
of bad people,
and sorry news.
And chipping away at the seams
My own self-pity
picks and prods
eating the fragments
in quiet delight,
feeding, gorging--
gnawing at the edges.
I am a fraction
of what I once was,
once wanted to be;
and nourish the small creature
I have become,
with the fractals of pitying thoughts.