I know you, I've seen you. And I can read you by parts. I know you have fears. I know you have dreams. I know your weakness. And I also know you don't shed tears. I know how vulnerable you are. And I know how screwed up your past is. I know how many sorrys have escaped your lips, more than a thousand. I know how many I love yous you've said, not all were said back. I know how many parts of yourself you have offered for love, not all were given credit. Now you live with parts, not originally yours. Your hands are worn out. You're exhausted. Your eyes are red. But they're borrowed gazes lent by past lovers. But it's okay. It's okay to be imperfect. Your stitches make you who you are. So let me help you, this is all I can do. I'll stitch up your heart for you.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
