I'm waiting for the right person to thaw out my ice heart.
The cold devours it like a cage,
Protecting me from anyone who dares to try and slash right through.
I suppose it has became necessary after one too many heartaches.
My body has adapted to the feeling of pain.
It has came familiar,
And so it protects me with its wintry mechanism.
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...
