our love was like the rose you gave me
once full of life and beauty
but it only lived for so long, darling,
i just wish we weren't the same

our love is my daily coffee
the first thing i look forward to
in the mornings.

the only difference
is that i can't add sugar
when our love is bitter,
and you've always had a thing
for liking your coffee black.

what if somewhere
in that black hole you call your "heart"
you could find some sufficient space
to give me a home?

isn't it funny
how the shape of your hand
fits perfectly into the curve of my waist,
but not the spaces between my fingers?
that's lust, darling,
not love.

the rooms in my heart have been vacant for far too long; ghosts travel seamlessly among the halls and dust has gathered on the floor. the walls need some new paint and the electricity is in need of repair. but i promise that it could still be a home if you'd just step in the door.

it's heartbreaking
because missing you and not having you
is a million times worse
than missing you and having you,
and i'll never have anything for years
that will mean as much
as having had you for seconds.