This should be an easy prompt.
I have written so many times about my brokenness.
My mind is blank.
Perhaps that is my brokenness today.
I am empty.
A broken heart begins to heal.
Each fissure packed tightly with memories.
Broken comes in many forms.
Sometimes broken can't be fixed.
Upon repair, the fault lines are weak, noticeable.
That's the broken my heart feels.
Yet, I continue to pack each crack full of memories.
One day, my fault lines won't be quite as weak, or quite as noticeable.
Until then, just love me in my brokenness.
Help me heal.