
Shatter glass inside of me,
I can't become whole again.
You were all of me and now
I am nothing again.
Nightly endeavors of swimming in my tears
and the stains they leave on my pillows and
bed sheets from the mascara I was once wearing.
[I'll never wash them.]
I begged and said all the right things,
I gave my all and lived in such a way
that
you would be proud of me.
But this tattered soldier to what once
was love's battlefield is now retired and
on the shelf because I can't take it anymore.
Every sleepless night is caused by you on my mind.
I want to wash this all away,
like sins committed or a coffee stain.
But lover, you were my heart; the blood
pumping through my veins.
So as I needlessly sit here upon my bed,
wondering yet again about the life and times
of you and me and all that really wasn't.
With smeared mascara, like a New York hooker,
I just sit here and think...
"Where did it all go wrong?"

I love the idea behind this & the imagery was stunning, likeee...








This poem cuts to the core and the pain (and wondering) is pure.










38 old applause
