Black Book Of Poems.

★

If you peered in through her ribcage,

You'd find an empty space.

From the boy she gave her heart to,

Who didn't put his in its place.

She no longer is the owner,

Of the blood within her veins.

It's belongs to all the memories,

And the drugs to numb the pain.

The brain within her skull,

Is so flooded it could drown.

In names of people who said they cared,

But didn't stick around.

All the words that she is been called, 

Have replaced all of her bones.

Even the smile upon her lips,

Is no longer her own.

There's nothing of left her body,

That society hasn't touched.

Yet they have the nerve to wonder why,

She hates herself so much.

.

.

.

.

Do not question an old love, a done love. Don't touch it, search through it, rip it apart. Let it be what it was and put it away somewhere untouched. And walk away from it into your own life. 

Let it hurt-

Until it doesn't.