Signified by hate,
a dash, a line.
No life, no love.
It's all left behind.
A scrape, a scratch.
I can't believe that
I thought we were
the perfect match.
I slowly die,
within myself.
Unable to find..
What it is I lost.
A life, a love.
It's all left behind.
A scrape, a scratch..
the perfect match.
A picture of you,
sits on the table.
With broken pieces,
planted within.
I tend to break down,
like I did the other day.
I forcefully break,
everything around me.
I can't help myself.
Memories are taunting.
But, your picture now gone.
A life without love.
How will I live,
with nothing at all?
Not even a picture
just of you.
