If you leave,
I won't look at the world the same.
My windows to the outdoors may be wide open now,
but the moment you take a final step out the door,
my windows will come violently crashing down,
shattering glass upon itself.
I'll view everything as if it is broken
and even though I'll try to repair it,
the shards will remain pieces of a past life
that you'll leave me forever trying to fix.
Pity my ruins
and call a repairman yourself,
but even Home Depot won't have the tools
to fix the girl with broken windows.
-mp
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
If you leave,
I won't look at the world the same.
My windows to the outdoors may be wide open now,
but the moment you take a final step out the door,
my windows will come violently crashing down,
shattering glass upon itself.
I'll view everything as if it is broken
and even though I'll try to repair it,
the shards will remain pieces of a past life
that you'll leave me forever trying to fix.
Pity my ruins
and call a repairman yourself,
but even Home Depot won't have the tools
to fix the girl with broken windows.
-mp
Request permission to use this poem