Still

In that first little poem,

you said my hand fit perfectly in yours.

And yet, you shy away,

as I reach out to hold your hand.

You stole my heart with those words,

words I believed,

the same ones you didn’t keep.

I was a fool,

a fool in love.

I haven’t learnt my lesson,

for your words, I still fall.

Failing to hold back each time,

my broken little soul.

I’ve pieced it together though,

the heart that you shattered on your way out.

Still weak from the blow,

but strong enough to hold it through.

Still a fool.

Still in love.