Depression

 a bit of sparkle

The heart was no place to leave the blades piercing her soul, slicing her flesh, as the resounding sound of madness echoed throughout her head. His footsteps hardened in the distance. His betrayal left and then carried away with the tide. She collected every sharp knife in the house, and threw each, individually, into the sea. One knife, one blade, one life, as seaweed attached itself to her lost hope, and the turning, of yet, another page. The salt from the ocean lay like bitter tonic on her tongue, as sea salt spray washed over her face in acknowledgment of falling tears. When the blood of a woman's heart is something she no longer drowns herself in; when she no longer wears self - doubt and loathing as her life vest. When life happens, life changes, and she becomes herself. The bitter sweet, the bitter blue, when all the narrative is gone, what she is let with, finally, is hope, and that hope becomes a powerful thing to cling to. When the heart beats so fast you need to run, just to keep up with it!