I’ve been wondering why I rarely write about love.
Wondering why a girl who never seems to run out of things to say
can’t formulate a poem about the feeling she gets when she hears you laugh.
Love was nothing like I pictured it,
but I call it love anyways because it has made life easier to cope with.
I love you, this I know without a doubt
but I struggle to believe you love me too
can’t seem to phantom what it was that these months have swallowed
if capitalism got in between and the reality is that we simply can’t afford it in these times
…it’s true that love is ever changing,
but I used to tell myself that I deserved someone like you
that I was worthy of a love like the one you gave me at some point
that I’d been a really good girl that has kept her body count low
so therefor I was still holy enough to pray for
with time, I realized that I’m a master of self deception
that I’m really good at making excuses for why someone just can’t seem to value me.
Maybe you stopped finding me pretty, maybe you hit it so much you go tired.
and its okay, we all want new things eventually
but you can stop lying to me now,
because I've stopped lying to myself we were brief,
and beautiful like all summer romances are
but you can’t go against nature
trying to stretch a season
too much time in the sun can turn anyone blind
