you gave them all of your attention.
your love
patience
time
an ear to listen
a shoulder to cry on
you picked up their broken shards,
and your hands got cut up
but you didn't care as long as they were okay.
you carefully put their pieces back together,
and took some from yourself to close up the patches.
a masterpiece,
they were a masterpiece, right?
but once you were finished
and they were complete and you are left empty,
they didn't like your cut up hands, it wasn't pretty
so now with your pieces they will find another,
and no one is there to put you back together.
but who am i to complain?
since they never called for me in the first place.
2•20•17
YOU ARE READING
IMPLICATION OF DESOLATION
Poetry(PART 1) the empty rooms with no doors isn't the worst part. it's hoping that one day someone will save us from the walls that howl at us for every mistake we've made. des·o·late adjective ˈdesələt/ (of a place) deserted of people and in a state of...
