Vituperative Hearts Poem by Nisho Olme

Why does what I love the most,
Hurt me just as much,
Lying in my vapid room,
Still longing for your touch.
You stole my heart and ran away,
Expecting me to heal,
But tell me what is left of me,
When you're what makes me real.
I can't be who I used to be,
My heart still made of glass,
I can't be who I am today,
Still living in the past.
So maybe I could heal myself,
The way you said I should,
But then I'd live without your love,
And I don't think I could.
I realized something else today,
While cleaning out my heart,
That when you give it to a girl,
It comes back torn apart.