Some sort of sorry

You fell so far
It made the news
The cover page
In black and blue

The walls are lined
With men in coats
With startled eyes
Taking hurried notes

Did you hear, is it true?
Her broken heart?
Can we fix it, make it new?
Do we have the parts?

Can we stitch it, sew it shut?
Bring her to life?
Can we heal her with cuts?
Hand me the knife

They worked until
You could breathe
Bandaged you
Then let you leave

To walk around
With scars and smiles
A patchwork cure
Of new denial