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Mar 2018
I am the kind of broken you cant fix with super glue. I am not held together with a hot glue gun. I am just unsaveable. Unable to be salvaged, you must toss me away in the trash. I am like a old lamp you hit when secretly playing ball in the house. You never told your mom about me despite how often I was there or missing. You took a broom and dust pan and swept the big pieces into the trash, but as you found the little pieces, you kept them. You kept the small broken bits if me hoping they would aid you in the healing you were doing but honey, all it did was break me down more. You were the erosion that ruined me. The stream that carved out so much of my center I collapsed in on myself. I became a sink hole within myself. It wasn't by choice. I wanted to stand strong. I wanted to prove that I was what you wanted, that I could shelter you. I wanted you. I wanted you whether it was under me on a Saturday night or next to me in the lords house on a Sunday morning, I wanted you. All of you. But you only wanted little pieces of me. And that's okay. I'll just be here with my chips and bruises, smiling at you in your entirety.
Written by
QuietGlass  20/F
(20/F)   
155
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