Category: Poetry

Broken glass.

You’re broken glass, and I’ve got

Shards of you, stuck to my skin

They pierce me, with every breath I take

Making me bleed, until I’m covered in blood

But don’t they know, that I’m a masochist?

Who craves the pain, that comes from loving you?

I’ve got my lungs full of you

Making it hard to breathe

But I love the pain, the pain that comes from loving you

The pain kills me, but makes me feel alive

I’ve got shards of you, stuck to my skin

And I’m in no hurry, to take them out.


-The Girl Lost In The Bookstore