when i was there to pick up
the broken shards of what
was left of you,
had i not glued you well?
had i been so foolish to believe?
you ran back to the hell
i've saved you from,
and yet i cause you unhappiness,
unlike the fiery excitement hell possess.
had i not been enough?
to be thrown away like
a second chance,
a sickening leftover,
an easy replacement.
had i been selfish?
giving all of myself,
and not even an ounce
of sympathy
in turn.
had i been weak?
yes, i opened my doors
for you,
unable to resist helping,
caring too much.
had i been something
so invisible?
that not even a spike
of gratitude
pierced my lonely heart,
and that loneliness had been
a smile that placed upon my features.
had i been nothing to you?
yes, truly.
i was fickle to ever believe
of
the possibility.
YOU ARE READING
anhedonia ✓
Poetry❝ there was something truly wrong with her heart being so constantly exposed to disapointment. she needed to relearn how to feel again-how to breathe without restraint, how to love without having to think about the falling. because god, the fall did...
