I’m the most discardable girl in the world. 

I few paragraphs and I’m easily cast aside. I should have seen it coming since this isn’t the first time. 

You don’t know how to climb mountains like you swore you knew, I keep trying to pull you up, but I can’t force you to want to.

Strong women often go alone. Boys will sing their love but be too afraid of crashing on the stones.  I’m not a siren, boy, you’re being frightened all on your own. 

It doesn’t get easier to be left. Again and again. The words seem to get easier on your tongue, though. All this practice must make your words seem thin.

I know that I’m strong and I know that I’m brave, I don’t need your false compliments to cover over your fake brave. 

So I’m leaving again. Because being left is all I know. He’s just like the rest. He’s proven to be a false home.

You can’t leave and come back. You can’t rewrite what you’ve done. You can’t re-sew the threads you’ve ripped out or fix what you’ve begun. 

I’m broken. I am done. He wasn’t as strong as me. Now I need to get gone. 


3 thoughts on “Done. 

      1. I hate that you feel that way! The bright side of pain…if you can call it that…is that it fuels the muse and usually produces great writing. But still, I’d choose crappy writing over being hurt any day. I really do enjoy your work though 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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