The Hardest Part
of being with her
is that I can't stop the pain
I can't stop mine
and I can't stop hers
every attempt in vain
I'm so happy
and she is too
but those feelings are still there
They haunt us
they drug us
and it's not fair
We've added lines
to drain the pain
Red a game to play
We're hypocrites, we're liars
looking up
from in the graves we lay
A gentle hand through her hair
a brutal one to my body
scratching, pulling, hitting
A gentle hand caressing my sides
then putting the bottle to her lips
pain and poison of submitting
We tear ourselves apart
and put each back together again
savoring our time of repair
The Hardest Part is
We're cutting ourselves on our pieces
and we still dare to care
YOU ARE READING
My Book Of Poems
PoetryThese are simply poems or thoughts I have. I have no idea why you'd want to read this, but if you do, don't if anything in here can cause a relapse or trigger. Most are depressing and some very short. Beware if you decide to read.
