Once we danced along to the same
sweet song, that you composed so
softly on acoustic chords.

Now, it is just a beat you keep
in time with, banging on pots
and pans like a child throwing
a tantrum. It's not my fault

your girlfriend looks like your
kid sister, or that I ******
your best friend
because you were too busy

maintaining another meaningless
relationship with 'the love of your life';
A title you give away like the generic
trophies parents get personalized

to cheer their children up when
they lose. Eventually, they'll realize
they're all the same, and changing

the name on the plaque doesn't
make up for failing. Like picking petals
off flowers, the only one that matters

is the one left standing in the end.
But the next time you go plucking
daisies from fields, and steal

their manes for predicting
the future. I still won't believe
in love. I never did.