The unknown..

Over a Cup of Tea


She was the kind of cold, that wouldn’t be measured by the temperature. Her fragile heart being torn. Trust, shattered. Was I bitter? Absolutely. Hurt? You bet your sweet ass I was hurt. Who doesn’t feel a part of their heart break at rejection. You ask yourself every question you can think of, what, why, how come, and then your sadness turns to anger. That’s my favorite part. It drives me, feeds me, and makes one hell of a story. But it isn’t even about rejection. It is about the soul wrapping agony. Yes, the misery. She became a memory. One, that always pinched me. Pierced my heart. She became a story, I wouldn’t read. One, that stings the soul. She was hurt. Dejected. She felt the pain, way too much. Yes, she was kind. She was narrating, …how do you run and play when you feel like there are…

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