giving up her heart for what she loved was like
breathing for her.
everything she saw
was in a brighter light.
the grass was always greener
on her side.
her eyes were always smoky
like the mountains.
her hair always a mix of purples and reds
like the sunset.
but her heart
which she gave out
over a hundred times?
it was broken,
torn to shreds,
taped back together,
piece by piece,
in hope that maybe one day
she could give up herself
for something more.
-s.h.-
YOU ARE READING
The Moon, The Stars, You.
PoetryThis is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coi...
