The Withered Love | The Art of Poetry | Page 1

#

She, who was draped in a blanket of insecurity,
Thought love could heal the emptiness
Little did she know, love bring out wounds deeper than any injury.
Not caring about the outcome, she continued
Experiencing the little moments again, often blushing in the pillow
Wanting to spend more time with him,
And thinking of more reasons to talk to him
Day by day, she got to know more of him and more of his heart
She never felt there was someone who respected and accepted her as she was
For people only went to her for their own good
Never believed that someone actually wanted to listen to her banter
She enjoyed it all
Enjoyed the little kisses that made her day more beautiful than any lovely sight of sky could
Enjoyed untill it withered into pieces
Until he one day started to transformed into a devil from a prince
Making her think she was wrong while she did everything and gave everything
Making her dread her own aura and personality
Making her dread waking up and looking in the mirror
The bruises resembling patched soil made her question him
Only to have her gaslighted again
She was tired of the cycle
The love that once she thought was a blossomed flower
Had turned into a withered mess
She was ruined once again
Her innocence taken away harshfully
Can she trust someone again?

#

<@&1145760802666717234>

#

<@&1144090752457113794>

#

@oblique wigeon @stark perch @heavy pebble @nocturne yacht @glad ore

#

@tawdry widget

#The Withered Love