Sad

My best friend told me he loved me on his death bed.

We never made it, did we?

You keep a lot to yourself because it’s difficult to find people who understand.

I’m tired of fighting. For once, I want to be fought for.

Sometimes I don’t even take off my wedding ring when I cheat on my husband.

I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.

Oh but that’s the irony, broken people are not fragile.

My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time.

Broken girls become warriors– but I never liked fighting.

You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.