A poem about giving up my precious for an idea of him.

Giving up my tea cups was like throwing a hand grenade into my hearts cavities.
It went: Bing, Bamb, BOOM…shrapnel flying everywhere.
Slicing through every piece of me.
My heart is spilling it’s deepest desires, all over the floor.
Do I want you?
Or the idea of you?
My pulse is slowing now.
No warmth in my skin.
How long must I thrash in this Golden Cage?
The silky…