Mending—Metamorphosis?

I fear, she said,
That broken
hearts may mend
like broken bones.
That, when
broken
they mend
stronger.

Which means,
she mused,
That the act
that breaks this
heart anew
must be
correspondingly
more terrible than
each act
that broke this heart
before.

But, would that
also mean
a heart re-broken
may harden
to stone?

Un-made

Today was meant to be
An Anniversary.

I took what I wanted

While I walked
In that terrible Valley

Two years ago.
I said, Yes,

In a place
where the only
thing I heard was
No.

But today is not joyful.
There is nothing to celebrate.
Today
Is a day
Of mourning.
A day for grief.

I pierced my skin.
I cut off my hair.
I seek to drown
In smoke and vapor.

Today I allow the part of me that said Yes to die.

I do not walk the same barren path
That lay before me two years syne.

This is a new waste,

Here after climbing
The Mountains of Maybe
And, foolishly,
Keeping my sights

On the summit,

Tumbling headlong into
The Desert of Never.

I want to turn my back on this journey

That has tried me
Judged me,
And found me lacking.

But to leave,
I must bury
The remains of my heart
At the base of the Tree

That marks the entrance

To Beyond.