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🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 When I gave you that book I gave you more than I could And who knew what future held But I believed in us And it went without saying that I loved you more than you deserved I didn’t know what to do When you said you couldn’t meet me on your birthday, that you had to go away I trusted your eyes, those words, and when you were gone I ransacked every place I could to get the best gift there was And I happened by this book which had my heart, my life I wrapped it with all my love as I wrote ‘To the best I know, the best of me’ I wondered what you were doing as I stopped by your place to surprise you before you left but what an irony when I was given a surprise myself by your gardener, a seventy year oldie seems, you’d never left, nor were going to that you had a grand party with friends and ex-lovers too I was offered a ride that I promptly denied with rage in my head and tears in my eyes I turned to leave but not before I parted with what I had to give I asked your gardener for a penly favor he said he had none and gave me a pencil One last look beyond the shimmering parapet realising not everything that glitters is gold I tore off the foolish display of my affections and signed ‘P. S. I don’t love you’, instead. 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 #badbookthiefpoetry
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Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 10:46 AM UTC
✍🏼 P.S. I don’t love you... ✍🏼
🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 When I gave you that book I gave you more than I could And who knew what future held But I believed in us And it went without saying that I loved you more than you deserved I didn’t know what to do When you said you couldn’t meet me on your birthday, that you had to go away I trusted your eyes, those words, and when you were gone I ransacked every place I could to get the best gift there was And I happened by this book which had my heart, my life I wrapped it with all my love as I wrote ‘To the best I know, the best of me’ I wondered what you were doing as I stopped by your place to surprise you before you left but what an irony when I was given a surprise myself by your gardener, a seventy year oldie seems, you’d never left, nor were going to that you had a grand party with friends and ex-lovers too I was offered a ride that I promptly denied with rage in my head and tears in my eyes I turned to leave but not before I parted with what I had to give I asked your gardener for a penly favor he said he had none and gave me a pencil One last look beyond the shimmering parapet realising not everything that glitters is gold I tore off the foolish display of my affections and signed ‘P. S. I don’t love you’, instead. 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 #badbookthiefpoetry
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missbookthief
Written by
F/Mumbai, India
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 10:46 AM UTC
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