Crimson Coloured Heart. Poem by Gracey Newman

I fell for the comfort of your words, to find my heart there - still broken.
You promised you would mend it, but here I lye still waiting.
I imagine your tattooed arms embrace my crimson coloured heart.
Instead you strangle me, till my veins run dry, till the last breath I take, till I die.

clenching my nails into my palms.
with the knife pushed in by familiar hands.
why do my lungs still gasp, when I do not breathe for you?
what is the point in my existence? , if my body is getting abuse from the touch of your finger tips.

So I will tell you in one sentence.
The comfort of your words taught me a harsh lesson in betrayal.
As I wish for you to touch me, I remember it was you who broke me.
Still wanting those hands, still wanting that crimson coloured heart to be embraced by your touch, that same touch that makes my heart crimson.

Dripping with bloody and filled with bitterness, many years I''ve wasted, waited. Now the crimson heart bleed fresh blue blood. Long enough have I waited. Long enough have I wasted, to become something I''m not, something you are. You will always be the pain that caused this crimson coloured heart.