"Do you know him?", someone asked me.
I looked over at you, standing in the distance.
And I remember when I dropped my books, and you helped me pick them back up.
I remember how you did the same for the pieces of my heart.
I remember how when my dress got ripped in grade 6, you gave me your jacket to wrap around my waist, to save me from the embarrassment.
My little hero.
You gave me a piece of yourself, so that the damaged pieces of me, could get better. So thank you.
What I didn't realise then, was that the piece you gave me, would be the last piece I would recognise.
Isn't it sad that the only piece I recognise of you, is in me?
I remember the last time I dropped my books. My heart started racing because I saw you walk past. I felt the hope flutter in my chest. But the last piece of you died a painful death, as one by one I picked up my books. Alone. And staring at your retreating back, as you didn't even spare me a second glance.
So I gave them a sad smile and replied. "No. But I heard he is quite the heartbreaker."
YOU ARE READING
Midnight thoughts
Puisi"there's a fine line between love and hate. sometimes I wonder if that line is only made out of the thin streak of my tears, or the remnants of my heart." - Love & Hate, @the_butterfly_meadow Pen...
