When love hurts it hurts deep.
The sharpest blade for the softest place….my heart.
Pulling at my strings my heart weakens.
Damaged by words and actions,
I sit bound by my wounds.
Lessened, afraid, unsure of the person I see before me.
How much can one take or endure?
When your heart is left beating on the floor?
Revenge fuels my flame…
but then am I not the same?
So I choose to retreat.
Not taking this as defeat.
But yet refuge I seek from loves cruel intent.
By: PryncesSyndrome © 2015