The day you hurt me
Was the day you broke me
You know it's true and you aren't sorry
Yet here I am trying to make up for the fact
That I meant nothing to you and still don't love me
Posing coldly in nearly endless rows of porcelain statues
Each a woman you kept
Subjecting them for your pleasure
Till you drained them of every ounce
Then you stabbed them: words are sharp
Taking their splinters and conjoining them in your flesh
Trying to make us turn to you in piety
I watched them shatter; not me
Climbing out from my cracked shell
Gathering the pieces attempting
Not to break do to the ocean swelling painfully inside my ribcage
Touch your frozen cheeks tenderly
"I'm sorry my dear,"
Left you behind,
Trailing my tears
YOU ARE READING
100 Peices of Me
PoesíaThis is a collection of poems that I've been writing since I was ten years old. They encompass many things that I go through in life, and many of my thoughts. I hope you enjoy it. Edit: It gets better as it goes, the first section of the book is fro...
