I think I need to accept that I’m meant to be alone.
I stare at my hands
I look at the mess I’ve made of this art called life.
All the red threads I’ve tangled, broken, desperately tried to connect.
All I’m left with is a blood-stained mess.
I shouldn’t have let them in. I shouldn’t have wavered. I shouldn’t have given pieces of myself away.
Now it’s so hard to leave. How do I piece it all back together? How do I piece myself together to feel whole again?
Can I redo it all? I want to scrub away every inch of the scars I’ve left and I’m left with and start anew.












