PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's getting harder to remember

what I was like

before I was damaged,

before you tore me open

and forced your darkness in.

I have tried to get it out

by opening my skin

but there is always more

left deep within.

What is love?
Do we really know?
What's it made of,
How does it show?

I contemplate,
As of late,
of things I wish I knew.
Love and trust,
And life and lust.
But mostly, I just think of you.

I do not understand the world,
Or the things which lie within.
The mysteries I HAVE unfurled,
Have spread my patience thin.

I've tried and tried
To make things right.
But, do you even care?
I feel alone
and on my own.
But you are free from doubt?
Is it fair,
That I still care,
And you go on to scout,
for new love and life
Free of aches and strife?
And I am by myself?

I care for the wrong man,
Every time.
And No matter the case,
They are never truly mine.

Am I just a tissue,
Disposable and used?
Is THAT the issue?
That I'm damaged and bruised?

Please, I'm begging,
I've no one left.
The heart you stole,
Is no small theft.

Now, I am an empty house,
No creature within, not even a mouse.
I'm broken and hopeless and beaten up bad.
Maybe I'm meant to forever be sad.