And when I grew weary of all of the scars
I counted the scabbed bits littering my heart
And picked them off quickly,
so no one would see
All of the damage that
they’d done to me

But it hurt when I pulled,
and all the bits bled
It made my heart ache, and
it stained my hands red

My heart grew misshapen,
more so than before
And before I could blink
I saw blood on the floor

And my heart couldn’t beat
because it hurt so
And so it grew harder,
the hardest heart I know

And that’s why I can’t love you
the way you deserve
So walk away, darling,
and think of me no more.

Sandra Reynolds

Sandra Reynolds

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Sandra earned her B.A. in English. She works part-time as a freelance writer and proofreader. Sandra was born in Massachusetts and currently resides in NYC with her fiance and their adorable pug.
Sandra Reynolds