Every time I let you back in
You take another piece of my heart.
By the time you are finished
And have taken your fill
I'll have nothing to give
To the next
YOU ARE READING
Him
PoetryLove is a hard thing. Getting over the love you lost Is even harder. It was torture; But when I look back Years from now, I will smile because Although I thought I would never be okay, I will be.
Nothing
Every time I let you back in
You take another piece of my heart.
By the time you are finished
And have taken your fill
I'll have nothing to give
To the next
