isn't it lovely

it hurts. 
the type of pain that devours you 
seeing him with another 
jealousy, 
your worst enemy

love and hate 
love once so pure and passionate 
you couldn't be without 
slowly turning into hate 
the type of hate that makes you lose control, 
wrecking everything insight 
it tears you into pieces 
isn't it lovely, getting hurt

if teardrops could be bottled 
you'll be swimming in a pool 
you promised you loved her 
you lied you aren't honest 
why, did you love her 
isn't it lovely, getting hurt

all he wanted was to kiss her 
but he never wanted her 
her rosy red lips desperate by the touch 
she knew she was used 
tempted she was hurt, again 
but she wasn't bothered anymore 
sadly, she was already used to the image of betray 
she wondered why she let him in 
isn't it lovely, getting hurt

12 a.m she woke up all alone 
the darkness was her only home 
beside her nothing but her bed 
she craved him but he was nowhere in sight 
loneliness was her only friend 
he was never with her 
isn't lovely, getting hurt

he stepped into the house once called home 
she knew he was not with her, but with another 
jealousy stroked 
hatred provoked 
she had enough
isn't it lovely, it hurted 
walking for a better place 
she would hate to see him go, but she has to let him go 
she was hurt 
he hurted her 
isn't it lovely, she let go

her heart relieve she watched as he stared blankly into her soul she doesn't want to be with him anymore 
she doesn't want to be with someone who can not give her what she wants

love, 
so simple, yet always misused 
she wants to be with someone who admires her 
someone who craves her touch 
Her. 
And. 
Only. 
Her.

This poem is about: 
Me

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