Maybe people don't break our hearts. Maybe we purposely made ours broken. We cut it into pieces and gave those pieces to others thinking they'd always take good care of it, thinking that they should have it, that they should carry a part of us with them.
So when the time comes that they decided to leave, they often bring with them that piece we've given and sometimes when we realize that we wanted it back, we can't have it anymore and we'd only be left with a heart missing it's parts.
We kind of want to make it whole again yearning for the very exact parts, that we often disregard the thought that it can be replaced.
The part lost can be replaced with a whole new one and it's just that we're afraid of finding that new one because it might not be the same as it was before.
And maybe, it shouldn't be. Maybe that's what we're really supposed to do. To give away a part of us for it to be filled again but with something entirely different. To make what we feel whole. To make us whole.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
ŞiirYou don't really love someone, not until they become the person behind of your poetries. When poetry speaks, it echoes through your soul, lingers in your heart, and dances in your dreams. And... it stays. I wrote poems enough for people to ask, "w...
