One and Someone Else

One has broken edges like me.
Like all the ones before him.
Broken edges bathed in alcohol and unbelief.
And if he picks me up, I can't hurt him any more than he'll hurt me.
The pain will be mutual and it will sting like the whiskey he takes to numb it all.

Someone else is whole.
The right choice.
A better choice.
But if he gets too close I'll hurt him, even if I don't want to.
He'll pick me up and then drop me when I cut his hands and I'll break again.
I can't survive another break.

I'm not the girl I used to be.
I'm too hopeful for one.
Too broken and guarded and cynical.
Too messy for someone else.
And nothing fits in my chest the way it used to.
Nothing feels right the way it used to.
And I no longer know who I am.