pain.

A searing stab penetrates the stomach, turning itself one way and then another, as if to carve out the only hopeful piece of me: my broken heart. Suffering torture of the mind through body. Physical illness overwhelms my flesh in throbbing nausea. Unexpected purging. Sensations travel up my throat to tongue, teeth, lips. Nervousness: never ending whirlpools rage through the body. Memories sting my mind, leading to the repetitive agony of heartache from my tingling toes to the tip of my head. Swelling, puffy, pink eyes bring pretty teardrops to the flawless, porcelain, rose kissed cheeks. Slow motion,the desolate room spins. The oak floor drenched in wet, salty pain. Naked, I stand. Light beams through the open sun-soaked window, casting soft shades onto my bare body. Beauty at its best. Absolute vulnerability. I want to run. I want to run into the arms of my prince and never let go. Forever we would be together. No drama. No manipulation. No lies. I want to wallow in his strength and dance in the joy of what love means. I want to be drenched in His silky, white purity. I am a broken woman. But brokenness makes us stronger. Transforms us into something more beautiful: what we were created to be.