A heart can only break so many times before it’s shatters.
We keep picking up the pieces one by one,
hoping that one day the cracks won’t even matter.
We try to forget the hurt that each memory made
because every time we relive the pain
the memory stabs us like a blade.
It’s hard when I was your cure and the only way out,
and you became my only disease.
But don’t sit here and tell me this is our only route.
The days turned grey
and always felt like it rained, but
it was so hard to get you to stay.
After you left me,
I tried to go on,
but I had no choice, other than to set you free.
So now that you are my past,
I know it might take a while,
but I won’t keep looking back.
A heart can only break so much before it shatters,
so when is all this pain not going to matter?
