The pain of a broken heart is real
It's a physical pain, like an open wound
Raw, stinging, burning, aching flesh
It even has a smell all of its own
Yes, I can smell it, it burns my senses
It assaults my ego as it comes in waves
It invades my dreams by night
It selfishly monopolizes my days
My every thought is consumed
By the bitterness of my heart so bruised
By the man who in one moment loved me
And in the next made me feel so used
But now I've found a way to dull the pain
A way to numb myself
A way to stop the flow of tears
A way to make it through the days
You should be happy for me
Why aren’t you happy for me?
You should be happy… For me.
But I'm not even happy for me.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
The pain of a broken heart is real
It's a physical pain, like an open wound
Raw, stinging, burning, aching flesh
It even has a smell all of its own
Yes, I can smell it, it burns my senses
It assaults my ego as it comes in waves
It invades my dreams by night
It selfishly monopolizes my days
My every thought is consumed
By the bitterness of my heart so bruised
By the man who in one moment loved me
And in the next made me feel so used
But now I've found a way to dull the pain
A way to numb myself
A way to stop the flow of tears
A way to make it through the days
You should be happy for me
Why aren’t you happy for me?
You should be happy… For me.
But I'm not even happy for me.
Request permission to use this poem