Concrete

Splitting me open seemed to be a hobby of yours.

A fun way to pass the time. 

For you. Not for me.

A heart made of stone refused to give in.

And every time you entered the room I felt small cracks appear on that piece of concrete

that used to be a heart. 

A warm and beating organ made for love and care hasn’t been there.

Oh yeah, it’s been a while, my dear.

I don’t blame you for wanting to bask in the warmth of the love I once had for you,

but I blame myself for making you believe there’s something left to give.