My heart was just
not a sample,
so it's time
to make you
my example.
Crossed, lost
and trampled,
I will make you
my example.
Hurt never felt
so good,
hurt was never
misunderstood.
Embracing pain
as I walk away,
drowning in sorrow,
and feeling ashamed.
My heart was never
a sample,
I will make you
my example.
Where the triumph
is held high,
I will soon
regain my pride.
Walking away never
felt so good,
I am glad this hurt
was understood.
I will let my pain
be captive,
not by you,
but by my absence.
About the Creator
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More stories from Shay Moffett and writers in Poets and other communities.
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor7 days ago in Fiction
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