Not long after the birth of a poet, the death of a love was decided. It wasn't on purpose, it was the cycle of wash rinse and repeat
Trapped in a never ending circle. Thought, pressure, decision and all over again.
Today marks the day of deletion for me, the day a worthy lover was found and the day us two embarked on a journey to twist the arms of time and make our own futures...... today also marks the day of which I regret our meet.
Once was enough, twice was offensive, but three times hurts enough to render me dying.
It's not the fact of what you did, it's the fact that we can't share that connection. It's the fact that I feel too much to make that move or ask for that photo. I thought it was what I always jump to assume.
Love.
But I'm not making that mistake anymore. From here, I'm straight on the offense, no longer shall my soul be forced to put up with the abuse of the poetess who chooses her words like a shark chooses the perfect sized prey.
I'm Done from here on out.