Dear Diary,
When the clock struck midnight, and you weren't there
With your matte black Mercedes and perfectly combed hair
It hit me that this time, it was really done.
There's really no way to make this a pun.
My heart dropped, like the glasses from that night
A sad girl begging and pleading with all her might
He was all I had, the world, the stars
Regardless of his actions, his words, and the scars.
"I promise he loves me, he's just bad at showing it"
Love is not putting up with all of his shit.
Love is not broken dishes scattered on the floor.
Love is not your other half-halfway out the door.
Because love, well, it's so much more
Like the married swears over richer or poor
It's compliments and gentle touches
It's beaming smiles and soft cheek blushes
It is insanity to believe I did not think anything else
Destined for a life serving everybody but myself
Love is kind, Love is forgiveness, Love is sweet
Love is the words child, you will one day scream down the street.
YOU ARE READING
Letters From The Unhealed - POETRY
PoetryLetters to the ones I love, the ones I used to love, and the ones I haven't loved yet. From an unhealed soul. Letters from the Unhealed explores my personal young adult journey through poetry. Ever since the day I turned 18 the world seemed to hav...
