Time of death:
3:44.
When you told me you don't love me anymore.
Place of death:
The park where we met,
on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
I remember the dreaded words which escaped your lips,
the heat in your words,
the look on your face,
as I took a metaphorical bullet to the chest;
it hurt like Hell.
Cause of death:
You.
When you stabbed me in the heart for the first
and last time.
A fatal blow.
But in the coroner's office,
all the report will ever show is:
time of death:
3:44.
Cause of death:
Trauma to the chest.

I wish your mind would
kiss
mine and allow our taste buds to
dance
on the surfaces
of each flaming thought
and
then you find one
that leads tunnels
directly to my
aorta
and you will know why
we are meant to
bind in to our own
fairy tale.

but
I shouldn’t
I can’t

your mind is
already
drowning
with playful kisses by

…another.