A trail of bread crumbs; A light on the porch

Each night, in the solitude of dark, dedicated silence, I recluse deep within the depths of my breast and unearth the shards of my heart that still belong to you, purposely anchored there by the empty hopes of our happily ever after; Carefully tended to and cherished as relics of a golden age. These smoldering embers are all that remain of a once mighty edifice.  The shards bring pain to the touch as fresh stab wounds; it's a wonder why anyone would keep such wretched things.  The waves of pain envolop me until it seems I am submerged in a soothingly warm ocean-It is here where I will pacify the painful withdrawals of my addiction, and escape reality for a while.  Sadistically, I wrap myself in these dead hopes and dreams, as they provide warmth and comfort, and rock me to sleep. They're not shards, I wish to myself; They're a beacon.