By: Thea Woehr /
A relationship is like a rose.
it might seem pretty, but it still has its thorns.
one minute i love you.
the next, i’m mad.
then sad.
repeat.
tears.
glass shatters.
doors slam.
the blood seeps from my broken heart.
the thorns prick it.
quick, i need a needle and a thread to sow my heart back to its original red.
but its too late, the only red left is trickling down my soul.
i’m laying in my bed.
shuttering.
cold.
i have no more tears left to shed.
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