Stitches in Writings

There's a million pieces, scattered in confusion.. I cannot decipher fact from fiction. Lost between the lines of dialog and comfort.. Between my aching heart, and my angry mind, tearing me in either direction, but leaving me standing still, waiting on a moment of security to blanket me, and waiting for a moment of pain to open up my eyes, and rip out the seams of prior wounds.. There is no end but heartache, no matter how avoidable it may seem, a heart that feels is a heart that can break, and my heart stays with the one who causes me pain, Knowing the fool I've made of myself, no matter the times I warned myself.. No matter the signs showing he does not care, .. How easily he portrays something that feels so real, something so powerful that it has the ability to make me feel the emotions that he claims to feel.. Using "I love you" like it can stitch up those seams, like it has the power to heal, not realizing that using those words, mixing them with lies, only makes the potion more potent and deadly in the end..

Last updated May 11, 2014