Poem #266

I have a tendency to pick up broken things and try
to mend them back together. I’m prone to working
under pressure, loving under pain and smiling
under the rain falling from my own eyes. You were
going to be the death of me, that’s probably why I
still want you this bad.

9 replies on “Poem #266”

Wow! Another great poem. Sad, but so well done. I so hope these are not autobiographical. You seem too nice to have gone through such hell as you have described in a few of these poems.

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