Posted: January 13, 2017 in writing

I am not myself;

I am shattered bits of a heart

Which loved the wrong people. 

I am a lightening storm

Even on a sunny morning;

I am the charred remains

Of a structure fire,

Black ashes and twisted metal and

Lies.

Stories. 

Assumptions

Passed on a once-proud face. 

I cannot erase the rough, pink scars he left in my memory

Or the way his callous voice sticks in my head

Like a glue trap.

I healed wrong. 

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