Poetry

Lies, lies, lies.

And, after I fell down

The 4 steps to the

Landing, and they

Asked me if I was

In one piece, I

Had to lie.

I couldn’t tell them

I hadn’t been whole

In a long while.

That’s not what they

Had asked.

That’s not what they

Had wanted to know.

-a-

Poetry

Big Reveals and Narcissistic assholes.

And when the

Horn of insults

Honked in her

Earbud choked

Ears, and the rays of

Disappointments

Seeped past the

Expensive rose-tinted

Glasses, she could see

Him for what he was:

A narcissistic asshole

Wrapped in the gold

Trimmed wrapping

Paper; pretty, but

Useless once

The gift is opened

And the present is

Revealed.

-a-

Poetry

One Last Time.

Crying with

Her head

Tucked

Between

The knees

3 months

After he

Violently

Left,

She realised she

Was crying for

The parts

Of her

She had lost

In the process

Of loving him.

She realised she

Was crying for

The last

Time.

-a-

Poetry

Million Questions.

Million questions

She had wanted

To ask him

When he had decided

He couldn’t do “it”

Anymore.

She only asked a

Couple.

What about the

Parts of me

You had borrowed

Because you had

Wanted to feel

Whole for a while?

What about me being

Complete?

Will you ever return them?

-a-

Fiction.📝

Pockets full of her Soul.

As she obsessively traced the checkered print of black and red on her bedsheets, the smell wafting off of the pillow, musky and wild, she was transported back to the time when his laughter had soothed all her wounds and he was all the painkillers she needed; before he broke her soul into a thousand little pieces, and cramped a handful into his jeans pocket as he walked out the door.

-a-

Poetry

Every Single Time.

Cringing at

The memory

Of the moment

She had finally

Understood

How much she

Hadn’t loved

Herself

Because she

Didn’t have enough

To love

His ego, him, and

Herself,

She made a

Resolution to

Only give the spare

To others again.

She was her

Priority.

She will get

The first dibs.

Every single time.

-a-