Theres a Broken boy I know,
who has a hold on my heart.
He may not know it,
but its tearing me apart.
I love his dark brown eyes,
his soft black hair,
his caramel skin,
and anything and everything there.
I've felt, even held, his splittend threads that just began to heal.
I heard his heart pounding fast agianst broken steel.
I use to be his Broken Girl.
We both were broken,
once shredded apart by someone we loved.
But,
we slowly began to heal from each other's hearts.
I still yearn for his heart and his touch,
so one day if we be wedded
they'll pronounce us:
"Broken husband and Broken wife "