A cup of tea to settle it down

I had you inside my stomach. It was upsetting. How come you didn't love me? I know you know how it hurts to fall flat on your knees. You have your scars, I got mine. I tried to kiss your pains away, you brought yours to me and I gave in. And you got out. But this isn't about pride, it's about a broken heart, the loss of love -- which is known and here and always -- while you're not. It's about the about the mountains and it's about my shoes. How come: So many shoes, so many colors of a lost rainbow to your eyes; you never saw it. So many shoes, so many outfits and none of them have made you stay? There was the writer, there was the singer, the plain woman and the lonely girl with her fancies. There was the mother and the sister, and there was the fairy and also the demon. So many outfits, so many looks, so many hairs and moods: just like a doll. And you didn't even fell for the naked. Your next stop will be falling flat on your face. Because you just never learn, and I don't either. My next stop will be another broken heart (because I tend to think I got nine lives when I don't -- and how many are already gone?)