You never hit me,
But I shake in fear when I think I see you in a crowd.
Abuse doesn't have to be physical. 2 years later and I'm still terrified that I'll run into you somewhere.
I held your hand
You broke mine
I kissed your face
You spat in mine
I only ever had your best interests at heart
You had your best interests at heart too
I was good for you
And all you did was make me cry
If you are so convinced that I was the problem then please leave me alone.
You planted me
And when i popped my head out of the ground
I never grew tall enough for you
I never bore enough fruit
I did not have enough flowers
And somehow it was my fault
Even though you planted me
And most days, i wish you hadn't
He came back when I was flying
Just to try to pull me down to hell again
But I am stronger this time
And I am too high up for him to reach
I pulled myself out of hell, I'm not going to let you drag me back just because you're bored
Is the glass half empty or half full?
It's funny how people talk about it in relation to life,
But never in relation to how people view others.
It seems to me that to everyone else, I have always been half empty.
Always something missing.
Always half empty.
Never good enough.
You cut me so deeply,
And then spat on my wounds.
And yet, when you scrape your knee,
I have to fight the urge to come running.
I still want you to be okay.
Seems like I'm dying either way.
"What colour is my heart?" she sings,
And as her voice soaks into me,
I feel you slink and coil yourself around my heart.
At first it felt like you were meant to be there,
But the longer her set goes on
The harder you squeeze.
"What colour is my heart?" she sings.
I know the answer.
My heart is black and blue,
Thanks to you.
-I can't listen to jazz anymore.