PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Blind


Only pictures capture the happiness Of a love that used to be. Frozen in the frame, Torn by shattered glass, And stained with the blood of a broken heart. Deleted from existence. Words written on notebook paper, Forming love letters and apologies, Loose and free like the security I felt with you. Now water-damaged with tears, Five too many times. Ripped into shreds and thrown away. One step at a time Towards letting go. Your name cuts Like a blade Even on the hardest of surfaces. You said you couldn’t stand to see my heart broken, So when you broke it, Did you close your eyes? Maybe the first and second time, But the third time, You forgot to come back and fix it. It’s all good, though. I put it back together where it will stay. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for you, And didn’t add up to her perfection. I’m sorry I almost loved you. And I’m sorry I trusted you. But most of all, I’m sorry loving me was such a burden, For your cold heart to handle. It's funny how you still think of me, And this is my last thought of you.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.