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Our love was a secondhand shop. Faded and used, you left me there, decided you no longer wanted me. I sit among the other used items broken and bruised. Memories line the walls and stock the shelves of empty promises and broken hearts. Our secondhand love is being sold at a discount price with burn marks and ripped holes. You were just another girl with clumsy hands and missing pieces. I slipped through your bony fingers and you watched me fall onto the dirt brown carpet. I still have the rug burn to this day. Your eyes could burn holes through my skin and melt me into the ground. Our love was a secondhand shop with memories burned into me.
0
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
Secondhand love
Our love was a secondhand shop. Faded and used, you left me there, decided you no longer wanted me. I sit among the other used items broken and bruised. Memories line the walls and stock the shelves of empty promises and broken hearts. Our secondhand love is being sold at a discount price with burn marks and ripped holes. You were just another girl with clumsy hands and missing pieces. I slipped through your bony fingers and you watched me fall onto the dirt brown carpet. I still have the rug burn to this day. Your eyes could burn holes through my skin and melt me into the ground. Our love was a secondhand shop with memories burned into me.
lunapoetry
Written by
CIncinnati, Ohio
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 9:27 AM UTC
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