There was a girl
Whose heart was in shambles.
She cried his name
To the heavens,
Wondering what she did wrong.
She cried his name
Into her pillow so often
That she was sure her tears
Left stains in the fabric
So deep they could tell stories.
Stories of how
Her heart was broken.
Stories of how
Everyone hurt her.
And stories of how
The only relief she could get
Was the blade at night.

This pattern continued
And her skin turned
From a blank canvas
Waiting to be worked on
To being covered
In an artwork all her own.
She blamed him.
She cursed his name while the blade
Made contact.
She needed anything to take her mind
Off of his name.

It wasn't until she met
/The one/.
/The one/ who took her mind away from all of the pain
And the suffering that he had bestowed upon her,
As though having offered her
A gift.
/The one/ who kissed the marks on her skin,
The very ones that she herself
Marked her body with.
/The one/ whose lips
Felt like milk and sugar against
Her damaged skin.
/The one/ who made her human again.
Who picked up her pieces and attempted to put them
Back together.
The only problem is,
Once something is broken,
Can it really be fixed once again?