There's nothing lonelier than walking home at 4:15AM after it has just rained.
It's a different kind of walk of shame.
In an outfit saved for special occasions, I walked home
lonely because I left a small part of my heart in his room.
I laid it out on a floor littered with guitar picks, and there it sits still.
He wouldn't accept it, nor would he give it back.
Maybe he wanted it for decoration.
Now, my small heart shard, swollen and sad, has no home.
And in the glistening of 4:15AM after it has just rained, my pretty purple shirt looked sad.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
There's nothing lonelier than walking home at 4:15AM after it has just rained.
It's a different kind of walk of shame.
In an outfit saved for special occasions, I walked home
lonely because I left a small part of my heart in his room.
I laid it out on a floor littered with guitar picks, and there it sits still.
He wouldn't accept it, nor would he give it back.
Maybe he wanted it for decoration.
Now, my small heart shard, swollen and sad, has no home.
And in the glistening of 4:15AM after it has just rained, my pretty purple shirt looked sad.
Request permission to use this poem