6.11/22 - 6:43am
The quiet of the 7 am on a Sunday.
I'm opening our photo albums and all I can see is the good, the sunny, the happy.
Like the pain, distrust, and disappointment were never even a small part of us falling.
You came to me and said, home doesn't smell like you anymore.
You broke me, then you put me back together. Over and over like a child in charge of this delicate porcelain.
Bit by bit, tiny pieces fell to the back of our minds and the vase of us became too little to fix.
Maybe we are fixable, maybe we'll reignite again some day.
All I know now is that looking at photos with the memories I don't remember having - has become too much.
Too much to breathe through - without thin glass shattering from my eyes.
Like the vase, I once admired, we stopped existing as we fell apart. Maybe fixable, maybe over time less fragile.
All I am left with is wondering thoughts.
Maybe the broken trust, the hurt, the tears, the pain, can be forgiven and forgotten.
Maybe some day.. Maybe some day.
YOU ARE READING
The Sunflower diary
Poetry(..How to live with heartbreak) This book holds all my thoughts put into potentially good poetry. I'm hoping you'll like it and even empathize with it. Have a good read :)
