Broken.

This one was a knife to the gut, my amazing readers. If it resonates with you, know this old pain will always revisit just long enough to remind you how far you’ve come. So have a cry, give your little you a big hug in your heart and carry the f/ck on, Love.

Sometimes,
I am still
a broken
ghetto
girl

sitting at the window; listening to the wind blow
wondering why he left; remembering how I wept
staring at the stars; watching for his
baby
blue
car

my tiny life in a tiny case; “he can save me from this broken place”

no.

I am a
broken
ghetto
girl

too doped up on hope
to know
he won’t

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