I am not a broken heart.
It’s just that feeling of emptiness
A feeling of disappointment
Call it betrayal
Maybe I just over trusted.
I am not collarbones or drunken letters never sent.
The traffic your side was too noisy
Your house was crowded on an empty street
So the courier kept sending them back
And my hearth just kept smoking them all out
So I stopped writing.
I am not the way I leave or left
A lot changes or has changed.
Years passed or have.
I actually grew an inch taller,
I added abit of weight,
I bought more yellow ink,
Painted more canvases of me,
Wrote and read more,
Spent time with ‘Me’ more,
I bet you, this new picture is adorable.
Its like wine, the older it gets the finer
The dustier, the more desirable and costly
Or didn’t know how to handle anything,
No call it over bearing.
Choosing to lose yourself maybe,
A new pattern of thought,
new wave of emotion,
At any time,
It was most of the time.
And I am not your fault!