Heartbroken, torn up, crying, in shambles. She wore her heart on her sleeve. What did it bring her? Shame, loneliness, emptiness and sadness. She should not have done it.
She opened up to him and this is what happens. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. He was her first, her one and only and her saving grace. Or so she thought. She shared her deepest feelings, long-forgotten secrets and buried pain with him. He unlocked all of this, but she was fine with it. For him, she wore her heart on her sleeve.
He took her to new heights of pleasure and indescribable feelings of joy. He caressed her, held her and loved her. He engulfed her in his glorious beauty and drowned her in his pleasurable touch. She didn't mind drowning. For him, she wore her heart on her sleeve.
He showed her incredible things, introduced her to a world of endless possibilities and a sky shining bright with stars. She never left his side. All she could do was clutch his arm with both hands, never loosening her grasp. This was all she could do for fear of falling from his heavenly body. For him, she wore her heart on her sleeve.
Lies, lies, lies. All of it was lies. He betrayed her. She was not his one and only. He did not share his truest, deepest feelings with her. He unlocked her heart, so that she could put it on her sleeve. Yet, he was the one who ripped it off with his cold, dark, monstrous claws. She no longer wore her heart on her sleeve.
The new heights of pleasure became new depths of darkness. Thos indescribable feelings of joy were mutilated and transformed into the darkness of a rising hell. He, who was her flawless world, shattered into millions of tiny shards. His existence was like a mere window, fragile, transparent and disguised to look harmless, until its shattered shards pierced her heart.
She no longer drowns in his touch, but she is engulfed by the burning, black flames of his betrayal. She no longer wears her heart on her sleeve.
There was nothing incredible about what he showed her. That world of endless possibilities only led to the underworld of her despair. She let go once she realised that this heavenly body came straight out of the depths of a fiery hell. There were no more shining stars, there were only hunks of dark, desolate rock plunging her into her own darkness. She no longer wears her heart on her sleeve.
Heartbroken, torn up, crying, in shambles. Who is this girl? She is me. And I no longer wear my heart on my sleeve.
