
Black
I am strong, but I have scars.
I am an angel, but the devil.
I met her when I was sixteen, she was a breath of fresh air.
She swooped in, making me smile.
But then she left, taking my next breath with her.Her smile could light up a room, making my black heart pitter patter.
I found her again ten years later, with a syringe in her arm. Blood coming from her legs.
She was broken and I was glad she was broken. She wouldn't think less of me and my damaged ways.