Heartbreak Poem

What I Let Him Do To Me And To My Soul

This poem shares the story of my unshared love.

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The Stranger


Published: June 2018

It was a late night in September,
The beginning of autumn,
When the image of a stranger
Appeared on the left corner of my laptop.

He was tall and handsome,
He had a bald head, "damn" fit,
In his late thirties,
Way better than Brad Pitt.

We clicked in a second.
He took off my gold mask,
And when his green eyes looked at mine,
They took my breath, not only that...

He cut me open, I didn't see,
I didn't bleed, I didn't feel.
Exactly how a doctor does
With the bodies at the morgue.

And he kept cutting a few months
He cut nice, but deep, my meat,
Without emotions in his heart,
But on his hands, now, is my blood.

And as he cut in half my heart,
He finds my soul, he grabs it fast.
Then he decides to make it his.
He played me good, I recognize.

And even if I wanted,
I couldn't oppose.
He knew from cutting me that long
Which was my weakest spot.

He knew that if he'll cut with kindness,
If he will speak deep words to me,
And if he'll touch me where I need,
Into his hands my soul I'll leave.

He sewed me back but didn't put
His soul in to my heart instead.
And taking mine was just for fun.
I look like I'm alive, but inside I'm empty and dead.

From time to time I find myself
Lying in these sheets,
Closing my eyes, trying to feel
That the man touching me, is him.


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