my brokenness was hung in a museum
you bought your new girl to look
gloating that you created it
saying you owned the art that was held to the wall by a nail
but you never owned me
i was art before you came and told me i was
and i'll continue to be art
long after you're gone
you never owned me
YOU ARE READING
nights are cold without you
Poetrya sequel to 'to die would be an awfully big adventure'. this book is about my healing, i learnt not to forget but to forgive (Completed)
