Maybe now your heart is bleeding,
because the love you wanted to last has its ending.
Maybe you are now broken,
but you have to spill the words unspoken.
Maybe he once owned your heart,
but never your art.
Maybe you once wrote thousand words about your love story,
but now he's out of your poetry.
Pick every broken pieces of you,
and never ever let your heart to be once again threw.
Pick your heart from the slough,
always remember that you're more than enough.