Go on.
Run back to the girl who left scars on your heart on bruised your trust. You spent years healing. Moving.
Moving on, moved on. To me.
The one who helped you through everything. The one who sliced her hands open, piecing back together the shattered shards of your broken heart. The one who taught you how to love.
we fell in love.
Months of healing and tears, making art with the words that poured from our chest
making our pages wet with beautiful heartbreak and new found love. Everlasting love, or so you promised. But those were just spoken words not like the words you spill onto your pages in crimson ink, always saying they were about me, when I always knew they were about her. Her. The one who left you
You have forgotten the pain she caused you, because like a cowering dog, you ran back to her raised hand, looking for love. You left.
And you left me
You left me like she left you
You broke me.
By: Charné Botha
