Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2018
You sliced through the seven layers of skin on my chest,
You cracked my ribs,
Blood spurted out,
You absorbed it,

The whole time,
I surrendered to you,
In awe,
And thought to myself,
"How am I not in pain?"

When you finally found my heart,
Raw and bare,
Offering itself to you,
You left,
Masterfully rejecting,
What you so intentionally earned.

At first I was numb,
But now it's worn off,
And I inescapably feel,
Every ounce of pain,
You inflicted,
To open me up.

So here's the question:
Do I leave my heart here,
Or do I sew myself up?
Written by
Flame  F
Please log in to view and add comments on poems