I'm listening to songs I used to
listen to before I met you.
I'm wearing a shirt that I've always
wanted, before I met you.
I'm hiding behind bangs again.
A haircut I had before I knew you exist.
I'm writing in a book that was filled
with thoughts that weren't about you.

You see, I'm trying to connect to the old me again.
The one that wasn't aware of your existence.
Back then, I wasn't so sad, so confused.
I wasn't trying to impress anyone.
I didn't think of anyone else.
I want to be her again.
To resurrect her.
Maybe she wasn't
the best then, but at least
she was better off without you.

-m.b

He wasn't the first,
Definitely won't be the last,
But he left a huge hole,
A gap in my already broken heart,
For with him leaving,
He took a huge chunk of all that's left,
And I no longer know how,
Or if it's even possible to hold it together,
When everything's worn,
Torn,
Broken,
Beyond repair,
With no way to mend,
Perhaps maybe at the touch of another man,
Or only time can,
And frankly,
I don't even want to find out,
Unless of course if and only if it were to happen;

I took a risk,
Not once,
Not twice,
But every given chance,
And it was worth every bit of the pain,
But for now I'm trying not to bleed,
Even if it's just ink on papers torn,
For just about anyone to read.

@byizn