Falling out of
love is like the wind blowing past my face,
is like the tides,
is like the
unfortunate circumstance;
it always happens
to me.
Like a birth-mark
upon my forehead that reads
Stay Away. Unstable Ground.
I date an
illiterate boy
and he learns to
read.
Misplaced;
mismatched;
mistaken…
an endless race
of Hope and The Inevitable.
The unenviable
conclusion of our fated love.
The nights we
found out
Cupid’s arrow could
draw blood,
and giving up was
vivid purple
on the palms of my
hands.
The day three
words became a weapon.
I thought it was
us against the world
and got hit by
friendly fire.
I’m like an
advert, and she’s a blockbuster
you can’t take
your eyes off.
Practical never
captured your heart
and temporary is
never in style;
before we know it
our love has past;
a distant memory
that fits on a
piece of paper
6x4,
6x4.
Buy your
postcards, love
and take pictures
for display;
because this love
is leaving quickly
I am the girl you
will forget
but I hope these little
trinkets of our life
will jog your
memory of me.
