I thought you made flowers grow in my lungs, but I finally realized that they are weeds.
So I smoke my cigarettes in hopes to **** all of those broken promises you put inside of me.

I can be surround by people,
And still feel completely alone.
It's this ache right in the center
Of my chest, and it's a constant
Reminded that I will never
Be enough for someone to love.

How am I supposed
To write again...
words from my heart
When you left..
Not only my heart you took
My pen you stole
My passion to write
I am just a poet
You are my poetry
What would a poet be....
without her heart...
... her poetry?