Which horizon never met the Sun?
What have I done, to warrant her lack of warmth?
Glimmering hope, staring at ceilings.
Blazing me down spiraled, singed thoughts.
Reminding me, that neglect is the hardest wound to heal.
She never thinks of me.
Encased in body cement,
nothing grows, but apathy.
Half of me died in betrayed love.
Miles of memories ash the sky,
with burnt pieces of us.
I guess I wasn’t lucky.
There is nothing,
where the rest of me belonged.
She doesn’t love me.
She brings me down,
dressing me up with shame.
Dismissing it as a paper cut.
Tears will never tell.
They’ve never told before.
If I could escape,
corrupt cores plaguing numbed souls,
I would.
I’m only just surviving;
I don’t really want to live.
If she loved me…
I am my broken heart.
She makes me feel ashamed of me.
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