I never thought about what would happen, to us, the day you'd leave.
It sounded so obvious that the day you'd move on, would also be the day I'd finally get my shit togheter.
But truth is, I still dream of you, I still fucking love you with every piece of my worn-out heart.
And everything that seemed so obvious, comes back and slaps me in the face.
Nothing ever made sence, and that hasn't changed.
I don't get how I can still love you with my shattered heart while I literally saw you break it in those rough hands of yours.
I saw it, I felt it.
And still I fucking love you.
Now how is that possible ?
YOU ARE READING
It's a journal
Poetry''Instead of blades, I use pens, but it is still my blood covering the pages.'' Comment or like if I have helped or inspired you. Also if you are having trouble or you are feeling down, Feel free to talk to me. I might not be able to take the pain...
