I'm falling backwards
again,
with no arms
to catch me.
Another
painful memory
that I have to learn to live with.
Why is it
that we rarely remember
the exact time when love starts,
but recall every detail
of the moment
it ended?
Another bruise,
another stain on my heart.
In exile
and not to be trusted with it's own feelings.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
I'm falling backwards
again,
with no arms
to catch me.
Another
painful memory
that I have to learn to live with.
Why is it
that we rarely remember
the exact time when love starts,
but recall every detail
of the moment
it ended?
Another bruise,
another stain on my heart.
In exile
and not to be trusted with it's own feelings.
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