I gave my love to someone who didn't deserve it. And so, I paid the price. I opened myself to him and handed him my heart. With a smile, he took my heart gently into his hand. Then he dropped it. He stomped, kicked, and rubbed it in the dirt. And even with the tears flowing from my eyes, he made me believe I liked the way he treated me. He made me believe I loved him. Because I did. Slowly, he slipped on my blindfold so I couldn't see the chains he put around my neck. And I loved him. I loved him even though he scarred me in more ways than physical. And I forgave him. Time and Time again. He'd step on my heart and I'd say "It's okay." He made me his. And even now, with the blindfold discarded and the chains removed, I still carry the weight around my neck. I still see the darkness over my eyes. I still feel the imprint of his shoe on my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts to Books I'll Never Write
RandomThis is just a place where I'll be dumping my vent writing or pieces from stories that appear in my head that I, just like the title says, will never write. Feel free to read, this isn't private. I'm putting it here because I'm willing to share. But...
