A year or so ago,

if you would like to know;

a thief, she stole my heart.

Then left me all alone.

If I gave her the blame,

well, that'd be a shame.

I could call myself a thief, too.

Just not in the same way.

You see, a thief never returns.

But me? Her heart was always hers.

She stole mine then made the escape,

with mine, hers, and her final words.

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How sick is it that I want to strip away all your new found happiness

Squeeze your memory dry of her

Rip open the healed stiches on your heart

And find myself sliding down, inch by inch

Making myself comfortable

In what is rightfully not

Mine 

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Someone's sowed pins and needles into her lips.

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