I believed in you,
and now I believe in nothing but:
The honesty of a thunderstorm -
And the promises in a roses thorns -
And the whispers from the moon at midnight -
Nothing haunted ends up being “just alright.”

We take the blood and make it art -
From broken glass, a mosaic of shards
And present it to the world and ask,
“Will you see the depths in me at last?
Can you see me in these jagged pieces?
I’m somewhere in the truth of this mess.”

You don’t always get an answer
But the asking makes you braver,
And you grit your teeth until your gums bleed,
Turning a profit from your tragedies,
And pretend it was all worth it -
Say you’d do it all again.

But I look away from the pretty face
At the other end of the bar.
I’m not gonna chase my ghosts
To the backseat of her car.
I don’t want to make
Another showcase from my heartbreak -
I’ve lost too much blood to bleed
All over a stranger’s sheets.

So I’ll just drink my amber peace and leave,
Because I believed in you and now I believe in nothing,
But the scars you left
And the words you said
And the places I now can’t go.

There are some aspects of poetry
I wish I didn’t know.