You were supposed to be my forever girl,  
the only person i’d ever write another poem about.  
Your slender fingers intertwined in mine,
making it impossible  
to write a single word
but it would always be worth it when I saw your eyes.

I thought we’d get married,
two white dresses standing out  against the autumn leaves.
But you never liked the breakfast club,
or neck deep  
and you laughed every time
I said I wanted to be a poet.  

It’s been a long time since I adored you,  
since I saw a future in your smile.  I’ve been watching pretty in pink,
something you thought
looked boring  
but i’m loving it.  

I still love you
but not in the way I used to;  
there’s no indie movie playing our story
like I had hoped once before  
but i’m finally alright with that.