My heart is held in the hands of people who like to break things.
Chaos is their default, and
everything is my fault.
Why do the broken always find me?

They think I am a mirror, but I am a window.
Not fractured like them, but convient and translucent.
They keep their hands firm against my cold surface and stare through me while they continue to look for something.

My mosaic is just not for them.

I thought of you once more,
The way you broke me,
My heart is at war,
I no longer wish to be.

My wings lost all their feathers,
I can never fly,
I just sit and write letters,
Until my thoughts die.

You indeed strangled me,
A little innocent rose,
I cannot let my petals flee,
Pain is what I chose.

Bursting in flames,
My heart still cries,
When it hears your name,
Denying your lies.

My soul consisting of agony,
Wishes to become a ghost,
Disappearance my path shall be,
I will run from you the most.

Your name will never caress my lips again,
Nor will you break my bones,
The memory of you will be my pen,
Writing on the stones.

I am going alone,
This pain will never be spoken of,
The wind has blown,
Taking away my guarded love.

The times we danced together in the kitchen,
The moments we shared on the waterside,
The days we spent locked in our own world,
The hours we spent talking about the sky.
All those memories fly through my eyes,
playing like an old film
as tears stream down my face,
as I watch you kiss her,
and smile against her lips,
like you used to do against mine.

I hate the fact that I can never hate you and the fact that I'll always love you no matter what you put me through. so Don't say sorry because I'm hurt. Say sorry because you're hurt. Mistakes are part of life, everyone makes them, everyone regrets them.