Sometimes You Don'T Get Seconds Poem by mary mcallister

A heart is torn open,
A love is broken.
A life is empty,
With few words spoken.

The words that are spoken,
Are they what they appear?
Like the loss of your love,
Is it the blankness I fear?

Knowing you hate me,
Is a terrible fate.
I thought there was hope,
But it was too late.

What is spoken is spoken,
And what is done is done.
I spoke without thinking,
And now you are gone.

I hope one day,
That I'll earn your heart back.
Because I still love you,
And that's a fact! ! !