The people who broke us are the ones we crave when the wounds they gave us ache.
The ones who leave don't bare the scars from the fight. And it's always the one who gets hurt that ends up dying.
We get left alone, and we hurt, and we cry, and we have problems for the rest of our life.
And they just leave.
And they're just fine without us.
It's not fair that my broken heart aches for the dozens of people who tore it apart and it's not fair that they aren't around anymore to help pick up the pieces.
A space for me to empty my brain of all the poems, letters, and half-finished stories that swirl around in my head all day.
Monday, September 5, 2016
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
-
He had a gentle way about him despite the darkness that seemed to cloud his eyes. Like someone who saw unspeakable torture but didn't...
-
I have always been drawn to blank paper. I could spend hundreds of dollars buying empty spirals and reams of blank paper. I love seeing it t...
-
We are classic. Timeless. We are black and white. Pearls. High heels. Red lipstick. We are the reoccurring pairing. O...