i often wonder
what you'd think of me
if you ever found out
what i used that broken piece of your mirror for.
at first, it lay by my pillow,
wet with the tears i shed for you.
but i don't remember when things changed,
when the hurt in my head became unbearable,
when i needed my body to hurt more than my mind,
when the wet mirror piece turned red,
and the screams in my head went silent.
now the mirror piece stays buried by your picture,
i haven't touched it in a year.
YOU ARE READING
leaping into freedom
Poetryhurting ------------ these are a few of my thoughts, dramatically blown up x1000, but yeah. most of these might not make any sense, just like life... or thoughts, but i hope you learn something or relate to something to know that you are not alone :)
