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Poetry: Broken heart

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You didn't love me then.
You'll never love me now.
Not even when I was there,
Today, another face in the crowd.

The one you could always count on,
A person in whom you'd confide.
But I just read you wrong.
That's what I've derived.

Repeatedly you broke it.
This thing labeled "heart".
Drag me through pounds of s*,
To tell me what was never felt.

A lie I told again.
That you wouldn't bring pain.
Back and forth you bring it and then,
What I am is shame.

Always there for you,
You were there for her,
Now what's left for me to do?
I sit here and wonder.

Getting involved again is my heart's suicide.
But inside still desires to go.
So even though not willing to hide,
A preventive step, in order to grow.

So this thing is a b*.
I'm at a loss.
You've left me be-witched.
Without just cause.

You didn't love me then.
You don't love me now.
Still, I'm left with a friend.
But yet, crying somehow.

Learn more about this author, Andrea Cormier.
Contact this writer Click here to send this author comments or questions.

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Poetry: Broken heart

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Poetry: Broken heart

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