I ripped myself out of your life
and I left the wounds open to bleed.
The blood seeped into the ink,
and the ink became the pain on the page.
I was empty before I met you
I was whole when I was with you
and then I let you go.
But you have read my heart
you saw the clockwork of my soul.
You came back and grew new roots
in the wound, where I got torn.
*: Thank you
Dewald Viljoen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ripped/
