She cried the tear that she’d been holding back;
And she’d finally tell you she’s broken.
You look at her with no surprise.
Like she hadn’t even spoken.
You like like you’re about to break.
When you look into her eyes.
You have no idea of the heartbreak.
Or the silent tears she cries.
YOU ARE READING
The Ghosts of my past.
PoetryLiterally, the ghosts of my past. My pain and such. Poetry from 2008-2009.