My bedroom holds bad memories for me now.

I feel like that stupid girl I claimed I would never become.

And I can only blame myself.

Because you never mentioned forever, hearts, or that useless emotion named love...

So then, how did I become so undone by a smile, attention, and a few playful words?

Why couldn't I see how disposable I was to you?

Afterwards, I shatter.

Unfazed, you move on taking a piece of me with you.

And I'm left haunted by the question, can I only blame myself for being broken?

Looking back, I think I wanted an escape.

I wanted to grab hold of a piece of happiness, to evade my inner sorrow, but I should have known better.

I should have known that dreams turn into ash.

And this was just one more fantasy that crumpled through my fingers.