I think you were deep,
That's why you were so captivating.
I think you said the same about me,
but after a while you realized that my depth was a mere illusion,
and after some time I found out you were hiding behind a mask and a keyboard. Sometimes I said hurtful things but you acted quietly, gently. You never said a harsh word and that was the thing.
You gently tapped into my weakest corners and watched me get tortured. You said nothing and I didn't know I was breaking until you weren't there anymore. And I'll always believe that even as you were breaking me,
you held me as one whole.
-(Ka.Me)//(aka herbrokenpoetri on IG)

When you hold a mirror,
hands pressed against the cool glass,
staring directly at your other half,
not exactly identical,
but you know there is something so
**** captivating inhabiting his
persona, you don't expect to look
away from those magnificent eyes,
and you don't expect the mirror to fall
and shatter into many hopeless pieces
and neither do you expect yourself to
spend hours, fingers bleeding, trying
to glue the pieces back together just
so you can get lost in his artificial presence again.

-Ka.Me// @herbrokenpoetri on IG

I think my heart is crying but I'm refusing to hear the screams.
I think my skin is turning blue without you,
because you were my life support and when you took off,
I no longer had air to fill these broken lungs with.
You said I wasn't all that great but I swear when
you first met me you couldn't look away. I blame
time because it changes people and now I can't help
but notice the chipped paint on my bedroom walls.
See, with you I looked at the world with hope-filled
eyes and everything was magic.  Now I can't help but
find dead people my late night entertainment.  I write
your name on damaged buildings hoping that maybe
one day you'll see that I put you before me and the sun
was our audience. You never liked how I compared your
eyes with the sea, now I keep choking on water but I'm
on land with a photograph of you smiling.
-Ka.Me// (herbrokenpoetri on IG)

The heart of a writer is a battle ground,
they break for the sake of breaking
because even despair has its calms.
The hands of a writer are tar black,
patched up with band aids and
agonizing pain. The eyes of a writer
is a clear ocean view, mixed with
madness and sadness and a soul
somewhere there too. The mind of a
writer is a garden of flowers,
embracing pretty words and seeking
simple wonders. The soles of a writer
are on their own, they take them to
places they have  never been before,
then trip and fall, creating their next
                                                story line.
-Ka.Me.// @herbrokenpoetri on IG