I tried to pick up the pieces of our broken relationship but dropped them and left them scattered on your carpet every time we fought. The pieces became smaller and smaller until they were microscopic and every time I walked around I'd find bloody footprints following me. I'd look at my feet and not even realize that they were covered in tens of hundreds of cuts that merely broke the surface but would dig in deeper and deeper every time I treaded on shaky grounds.
You were smart enough to wear shoes and not feel anything anymore when you walked and you one day just walked right over me and didn't notice that you stepped all over my heart that fell from your hands when you decided to walk out that door and leave me.
I probably should have used a piece of bread to pick up the pieces of glass but I used my bare hands instead because I was used to feeling the pain and after a while it didn't hurt anymore. Even though the pieces are still there, I'm looking for a new glass frame to put our picture in and I hope that if I ever decide to give you this as a gift that you'll put it up on the wall next to where I stapled down my heart to keep it from falling.
YOU ARE READING
I Was She
Poetry[Complete] A series of poems and short stories tell the sad tale of a breakup, of rejection, and of finding new love. From losing her soulmate to learning to see the world from a different perspective, M.A. Rivers writes down every last feeling that...
