the handyman..

He sits there, a table full of pieces, pieces of the heart that he recently broke. He had a box full a tools, he thought he could put it back together. What could fix a lie? The Truth. He dialed her number but hung up before the second ring. What could fix the fact that he cheated? Nothing. He started a text message but deleted it before he even thought about sending it. The tools he had with him would never be able to fix the damage he’d done to her heart but for some reason he felt he should try. He’d been trying for months now and he always got the same response. NONE. She stopped answering his calls, she let that go when it first happened. What he had done to her could not be reversed. Her heart will forever feel the sting from his antics and foul play. He thought maybe she just needed time, but time is what she had. She had time to think about everything he’d ever done to her. They were only together for a few months so the things he did stuck out like sore thumbs. He sat at that table and looked at all the pieces. The pieces of her heart, the pieces of her womanhood, every tear she’d cry for him, he finally began to feel what she been feeling the whole time. His eyes began to water, his chest felt real heavy, his stomach knotted up, this is what she felt everyday for those few months. Sleepless nights, early morning tears, she been through hell and back with her emotions. He felt it. He put the tools up, he now knew he’d done damage that couldn’t be fixed, he had to live with the fact that he had messed up. The damage done to her heart , it probably wasn’t permanent but because of him and his endless bullshit, the next man would have to go through hell to get her. He sat back and smiled. He’ll always have her. Men smh.