Flaw Salad

I hold two hearts in my hands; cry to them, “Please save me! Please save me!”; and reject their attempts at salvation.

I crawl before them to show them my tatters, and I resent their outstretched hands. I turn away and weep at my position, broken, alone on the floor.

“Here is my home – the filth and the grime. You cannot bring me up.”

I watch the hearts break as I slink away. I feel too pitiful to help them.

They call to me, and I offer a single consolation.

“Break, hearts! I’m broken, too. Together, we’ll all lie on the floor.”

As I watch them descend, to join in my grief, I wish they had left me to fester.