it was a cold winter day when love left
suitcase in hand
messily packed in a rush
never predicting the tragedy of loss she would endure
it was i who was prepared
broken words running endless circles around my mind
suitcase in hand
neat and pristine
i was the tragedy
haunted memories running endless circles around my mind
perfection tainted by the poison seeping deep
surface level loving
digging deeper
how was i to know
this well
was a grave
but oh how perfect love was
a captivating collision of beauty and pain
shards of her
plastering every part of me
but oh how perfect we were
love’s extended visit straight out of a storybook
i was the one to open the door
what cruel trick of fate sanctioned me to close it
to see love was not to know love
but once you knew her
to see her was to see perfection
but for a messy human to see perfection
was nothing more than a road
diverged into a thousand paths
all cursed with the same ending
heartbreak is inevitable in a world of hurt
someone must walk down the road
how tragic that love must bear the burden of others’ self-inflicted pain
constantly giving herself away to those not stable enough to hold her still
oh how perfect she is
how trusting of the untrustable
how caring of the careless
how loving of the unlovable
and how lucky i was to meet love
halfway down the road