A story of sisterhood
With a worn heart,
I made myself believe
that her love was enough.
I love her so,
but her betrayal runs deep.
The tears I fought not to run,
the shattered words that ran past me,
all were but taken by tokens of silence.
I plead to be broken from a love that is unequivocal,
but I forgive too easily,
she forgets too fast.
So for the seconds we are together,
when she is just with me,
what lies are
the wounds that heal but only to the surface,
the bruises that awaken again with every beating,
the cuts too deep to remember the first feeling of pain.
The broken fragments
that once was the purity of our love,
I still cradle them in my sleep
because I love her so.