You came crawling back to me, saying it was all your fault (even though you thought it was mine), just so you could speak to me again.
So, I let you back in my life. But then you said you couldn't handle it, couldn't handle thinking about what had happened between us, about how badly it hurt you, because you still loved me and knew I didn't love you back.
So you said goodbye, that you might be back sometime.
You had given me a second chance when I broke your heart. But I don't think I'll ever be able to give you one after you broke mine.
I used to think that there were these little bones in my heart, and when they got broken, the doctors would put a bright pink cast on my heart.
But it doesn't work like that.
You can't put a cast on your heart, and even if you could, there isn't a cast big enough to hold every single piece my heart has broken into. There isn't a glue strong enough to put it back together, and keep you from breaking it, yet again.
I had an elderly lady look on me and say "one day you're going to be a little heart-breaker to a bunch of boys." And I'm sure I was before now.
So next time you adorn yourself with such a label as, "Heart-breaker," perhaps you should imagine what it would be like when someone breaks your heart.
The most exquisite truth of all is this: I may be broken. I am not d e s t r o y e d.
To the once blooming violet, is it true? Will she succumb her petals to the burden of time? Will I be witness to the ripples of this crime? Is the storm to drown her in skies darkened blue?
Why is the savior the one to endanger? Why is the heartsease the one heartbreaker? Why is the kind spirit the true soul shaker? Why is my best friend to become a stranger?
How can she lose against the clutches of temptation? When was the divine cursed with humanity? How could the listener speak with inanity? When was our friendship twisted into damnation?
Will an invasive **** be victorious in his heist? Is the **** to convince her of his illusive might? Is he ******* her salve, to my abysmal fright? Will I rot of envy from the disgraceful tryst?
Why is life’s story a destiny written in stone? Why can’t I change the demise plagued within? Why should her scent become my eternal toxin? Why shall it degrade me from my flesh ‘til my bone?
How was I yearning for the bliss of her design? When was I seeded with this addiction? How was it dreamt into endless affliction? When did Violet and Lost Girl begin to intertwine?
Epilogue: And did the lost girl tiptoed through the darkened fields? Was her in search of the warmth of the sun’s yield? Did she reach the water? Was it her escape? Was a giant lily in the wait? Was it a doomed attempt? No heat, no win? Were her burdens too heavy? Did she sink in? And forever bound, was this betrayal to restrain her way? Or was it a promise of the past to save her day?
A poem made of questions...and an epilogue? Well, I tried something a little bit different here. The questions mark my confusion as to how someone I once called a friend began ignoring me and decided to abandon me after she began dating another person. I saw a change in her personality that made me crackle with abashment. It felt like she had never been candid with me. Still, as the epilogue shows, I sensed a glimmer of hope, and when I gave her this poem, we were finally able to talk about our relationship.