Inadequate
Some days I'm torn apart. Like the
teeth of lion, piercing a gazelle's
heart.
And I weep so much, those tears
now no longer fall. I feel like a
newborn, I'm learning how to crawl.
This love, I showered him, like rain
in a downpour. It wasn't sufficient
enough, like a nasty hurricane he
tore my love up.
I pick up the pieces of my shattered
heart, and I run behind him.
'Sweetheart, sweetheart—please
don't leave!' I have all these heart
pieces, I beg of him, love me.
I'm inadequate in his eyes you see.
I can beg like a pauper. I grovel like
a stray dog in need of food, but my
love makes me the biggest fool.
He won't take the love I have for
him back. I'm inadequate.
I bother too much, so I grow cold.
But when I blink an image of his
love being given away taunts me.
I'm appalled, and in pain, I fall to
my knees.
I'm replaceable, confused of how
can this be? I'm inadequate you see.
No he doesn't want the broken,
crumbled heart. Even if he's to
blame for my poor heart's state.
I plead and beg, I'm pathetic. Not
one single time though do I regret
it.
I wish at times life was like the
movies. In the end I'd get my guy,
we'd tape my heart up. And he'd
soothe it, no more aches.
This isn't a fable. I have no happy
end, as you can see I'm inadequate.
Copyright © Cecilia Rose | Year Posted 2014
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