The blood slowly runs down
my cheeks,
mixing with the salty tears
as I look into his eyes.
The picture that used to be you,
is drawn before me,
so broken,
but yet so breathtakingly perfect.
I tried to pick you up
as you shattered on the cold ground,
slowly,
I find myself collecting the pieces of
my long forgotten prince.
Why did you not feel
when I needed you to do so?
How was I supposed to heal,
when you were to one,
who pressed the blade to my fair skin.
The colorful sky that once brought joy to me,
no longer exist.
I had watched you,
when you had ripped down the beautiful painting,
filling in the now cold and empty spaces
with a matte grey.
When I look into the sky now,
I can see nothing,
for it has been overfilled with the memories
of the person I used to call mine.
But I guess it's no longer any use trying.
Because the bright image was never real anyways,
it had always just been a
dream
A dream that anyone could've been
stupid enough to believe.
- 19 years
YOU ARE READING
Shattered glass
Poetry［Highest ranking: #15］"Perhaps 'it wasn't meant to be' was our meant to be" he says as he chugs down yet another drink. She looks at him and rolls her eyes, "I wonder when your organs will give up on you too".
