.:Scars:.

I pick up the last piece
Its edges sharp and piercing
It slips and cuts me
I feel stinging pain
My cut throbs
And blood spills
On my clothes
On the floor
And on that last piece
The last shattered piece
Of my heart

I had surrender all to you
Never thought twice before I spoke
Let you in and revealed myself
I hid nothing from you
I had given myself up completely
Not knowing that I had invited you to break me
And you came
Burning and crushing
All I had given you
I ached unbelieving
As I burned in the fire you lit
It charred me and my body screamed
I hurt not accepting
As I scraped across to you
My hands grating on the floor
I pained denying
As my broken heart sliced me
Bleeding and suffering

But now that I have accepted it
I pick up the pieces of my broken heart
And it doesn’t fit
My broken heart breaks me
Its pain pains me
Its hurt hurts me
Its ashes burn me
And it’s never complete
There is always a missing piece
The one you have taken away
The piece which holds your friendship and memories
One that I can’t forget no matter how I try
….No matter how I try


I sit on the floor,
All my pieces scattered
Asking me to pick them up again
To feel what I had once been through
To heal what had broken
I lean forward collecting them
And arranging them
And as each piece I seek
My wounds renew
With it come memories
That cut into new aches
And then I pick up the last piece
Its edges sharp and piercing
It slips and cuts me
And I lie reliving each painful memory all over again

You may get back up when you fall
But your scars remain
Reminding you of their existence
And all the memories and pain