I am broken. . .
These images of tainted memories
The remembrance of the touch of your skin
The tranquility of the sound of your distinct voice
All burn the progress I have made, trying to forget your betrayal.
The insanity of it all, is still driving me insane.
These scars of your essence seem to still be scabs
That are so easily ripped away to continue my bleeding.
How do I **** the Love I thought was magical?
The Love I believed to be heavenly
You were my soul mate.
Now what shall be?
You'll find yourself in another's arms?
So he shall tell you all the beauty, all the magic, that I once told you?
Was I that useless, that meaningless, to you in the end?
How could my soul not ache?
How could I not be broken?
Because in the end, you must be happy with another man's touch
And I am left here . . . shattered
Trying to pick up the pieces.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
I am broken. . .
These images of tainted memories
The remembrance of the touch of your skin
The tranquility of the sound of your distinct voice
All burn the progress I have made, trying to forget your betrayal.
The insanity of it all, is still driving me insane.
These scars of your essence seem to still be scabs
That are so easily ripped away to continue my bleeding.
How do I **** the Love I thought was magical?
The Love I believed to be heavenly
You were my soul mate.
Now what shall be?
You'll find yourself in another's arms?
So he shall tell you all the beauty, all the magic, that I once told you?
Was I that useless, that meaningless, to you in the end?
How could my soul not ache?
How could I not be broken?
Because in the end, you must be happy with another man's touch
And I am left here . . . shattered
Trying to pick up the pieces.
