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.

(c) Copyright 2016 Beatrice Preti