yourebroken

Look at what I made. It’s so pretty it hurts. I used beauty, glue, as much truth as I could find, and pieces of my favorite shirt. I stapled it to my face; I was never one for half measures, and I didn’t want to lose it. I like yours. It’s very pretty. I don’t really recognize it, but the shape of it is hauntingly familiar. I see honesty on yours, but a lot less truth and no answers at all. But you smile so wonderfully and once you flick that switch I’m distracted again and forget all the questions I ever meant to ask. Mine features a heart. My heart, pieces of past ones. Mostly mine, all mine,

She is your best friend. I could never hope to compare to such a long-term acquaintance. She is always there and I know you see much more of her when I am away. We do not get along; I loathe the very sight the mere idea of her. I have made this clear, and still you see her when you could be spending time with me. She comes first; she is your best friend. You'd rather watch football with her close by. You'd prefer to play your games with her looking over your shoulder. These pastimes of yours that always include her looking on exclude me, and I am alone while you share space with her. We could be in the same house o