My love for her override my suffering.
My love for her override the pain.
Eveything had become about pleasing her over myself.
Through nights spent with keeping each other company and drowning ourselves in our own utopia.
Somehow her presence failed to contain the ache.
It always felt like I was missing a piece of my soul.
The more I gave the less I got in return.
Through everything I had done for her I learned.
She had played me and tampered with my heart.
Filling my mind with her sweet words which were nothing but a lie.
I was her puppet and she pulled the strings.
Stabbing me in the heart over and over again.
She had shattered me in such a way,
That I found it hard to pick up the cracked pieces that lay all over the place.
Whenever a stranger would pass, I'd see a little bit of myself in their embrace.
They were the collectors whereas I was the broken treasure.
Author's note
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