Sometimes I wish you still looked at me the same.
I wish you still thought I was special.
But the second you spotted a flaw, you gave up on me.
The beauty of snow cannot last forever because, eventually, it melts.
Yet we still learn to love snow in both its solid and liquid state.
What makes me different?
Why couldn't you learn to love me?
YOU ARE READING
Bruised
Poetry"You poisoned me with your potion, Hexed me with your love and devotion. Now I lay in pieces, broken and brittle." Bruised is a poetry collection for the broken hearts and disappointed souls. It speaks words of wisdom, words of pain, and words of ad...
