Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tiffy Apr 12
You always told me that I was good with my words
And I always told you that, that’s not true
It’s not true because I’m only good with my words...
When all my words are about you
I wrote this for the same person I wrote the first scrap on. I showed them and they didn’t realize that the poem was for them. If only am I right
Tiffy Apr 12
I always say that once a friendship breaks and mends back again, that it’s never the same
No matter how much you want it to be the same...
It never will be
A relationship is like a piece of glass
When it shatters, all of those pieces scatter
And you find yourself left to pick up the pieces
You get hurt... hurt from the sharp edges of the glass and hurt by the person who broke it
You try to fix it...
You think you’ve put it back together again but there are some pieces missing...
You don’t know what happened to them
You spend hours searching and then tell yourself that you don’t need those pieces
That the pieces are not important
But deep down you know...
You know that it’s incomplete
You know that it’s no longer perfect
You know that it won’t be the same anymore
But you don’t want to let yourself know that
You put on a smile...
You don’t let them know they’ve hurt you
You don’t let them know you’re incomplete
That whatever you guys had is broken and different and imperfect
And it hurts, it hurts when you think about it
It hurts that you cut yourself on the glass of what you had and it hurts that you want it back to the way it was
But... it can’t go back
It can’t go back because the pieces are missing
It can’t go back because the glass isn’t the same anymore
It can’t go back because now, you’re left with shattered glass
I always used the metaphor of shattered glass as a representation of a broken relationship with someone. I finally made that metaphor into words.
Tiffy Apr 12
They say that, “the saddest poems are the ones that were never read by the person they were written for”
But how do I tell you that... you’ve read all the poems I wrote about you
You just didn’t know they were for you
A scrap of writing I did on somebody I love but won’t love me back, at least not like that
Next page