On a cigarette ****
that burned out
but forgot to smoke,
in a cup of coffee
whose dregs
are accidentally swallowed,
also a pile of novels
whose contents
are only romance,
I love you like a loss.
I once imagined
you were writings
that I needed to read many times
until I could understand
then I guessed
and ended up
still wrong.
Sometimes,
we are too confident
for things that are not
necessarily certain
then turned off
after reality hit it
repeatedly.