Scalpel to the bone

The end of a bad relationship is quite like an amputation,
You endure severe trauma to the limb of your heart,
You keep at the macabre exercise till you cannot breathe, just cannot,
You closely probe the excruciating limb that is now infected with toxins of your hurt,

You do your best to infuse the limb with antidotes of self-reconciliation,

You methodically record your skin's pallor, your knotted stomach, your sunken eyes, 
You clinically note that your limb is dead and that it's poisoning the rest of you,
You mourn the limb and its years of servitude and its embittered death,
You pick up the glinting blade, bite down as hard as you can and slice right through, 

You survive