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Feb 23
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
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