gather up your hearts and go
by: poetic abortion (old; revise/edit - 2006)


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.

.

.

i.
she told me that
when I was beautiful
I was something

(she lied)

ii.
she was smoking cigarettes behind the bleachers
her skirt rolling up up up
and she was that temptation that wasn't so hard to
find
clicking on the heels of the girls that play pretend
(bleached and blond and skin-plastered-to-bones perfect)
and she told me:
she loved fucking girls against the backseat of cars
raw and angry and hurt
she told me:
she loved making them pretty
purple and blue and red bruises peppering their backs

she loved to make them feel dirty, awful, horrid
like she was the so-called Queen of (my) Heart(s)

iii.
when she kissed me I should have expected my heart to be broken
but I loved her

iv.
I loved (love) her
so, when she broke me
saying: I don't love you in that way
I should have seen it coming
(I guess I thought I was different

I wasn't)

v.
when I am queen, I will be beautiful

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author's note:
when i am queen by never forget what i lost, and Holly Rose E are what inspired this. Blame them (with love). ♥