You tried to convince me I was the broken one.
It wasn't until later I realized that you were the broken one instead.
But it was too late, you had cuffs on my heart and chains tied to my ankles commanding me to pick up your broken pieces one by one.
It was too much, all your broken pieces tumbled down on top of me, shattering me into a million pieces.
Now we're both broken, and you still expect me to pick up your pieces.
YOU ARE READING
2:00 A.M.
PoetryThe moons out, I have a pen in hand. I wish I were writing the stars down by name, but these are only thoughts. Thoughts I like to call poems. ⭐
