And your wondering why
it doesn't feel great,
why it doesn't make you feel
alive anymore
why every
single
night
you fall asleep in the saturation
of your own tears.
It'll rip you right open,
sometimes you'll have to
wait days, weeks- months
to be sewn back up
by her
gentle hands,
that lately seem
so harsh
because if it is perfect
there isn't enough care
though I notice
the pain only sufficed
when you weren't here.
YOU ARE READING
Existent
PoetryHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.