It hurts, doesn’t it?
The pain of never knowing.
The pain of knowing.
Knowing they are gone for good.
Knowing the love you shared is now
splattered by your fresh tears
on the blank walls you’ve had to build.
You trusted him didn’t you?
Too bad his veins were seeped in
too many lies for you to drink up.
Too bad his scent was drenched
in your fingers laced together.
Too bad you believed him.
Now you know.
That boys with guitars and
are meant to be met with conviction.
Now you know
why Nicholas Sparks keeps writing
Because everyone with hearts that beat
have battle wounds too.
And even the most brilliant
can’t out write
a broken book.
And even the most optimistic
can’t out shine
her broken parts.