our love wasn't some
basketball player and
cheerleader story,

it was written on pages
of an old book.

you were my Mr.Darcy,
and I was your Elizabeth
Bennet.

I liked our love,
it was old and meaningful.

but you wanted new,
so I flattened the pages
of the book, and cleaned
the cover.

but still,
you picked the girl
whose novel shined the
brightest in the stories.