By Jennifer Rutherford
Date: 8 April 1998

Modus Operandi: Broken Heart

Which is better, I wonder:
quick agony,
or endless floating into death?

As you drift into another dimension
contact is faint then nil
silence is the only one who tells me 
it is over.

Oddly enough, this gives me hope:
no final blow leads me to believe 
that you'll come back to the person you once were
saying, "How could I have ever acted like that?
I'm sorry, and I love you."

I am gone from your thoughts, probably for good
and this endless nothing coming from you,
the wretched bile slowly forming in my craw
from everyone saying you don't want me
my love for you is dying, 
and I don't want to see you if it's to say goodbye.

So I remain in nothingness,
trying to behave like I'm normal
as the inside of me divides into,
half-frozen anger,
and wet raw bleeding
that nobody sees.