"love? I don't
believe in love"
I say this a hundred times,
hoping it gets stuck like
the stain on your favorite shirt
you just can't remove
you eventually learn to look good
in it, to wear it
like it could only belong to you

that people would believe that.
that you could just leave
old selves behind.
that the moon and the stars will
be rocks and fire and gases
instead of a promise
instead of a dream
and a life built on a dream
and a whispered "it's okay"
the stars say "what is a stain on a shirt,
when love is love?"

"love? I don't
believe in love"
I say this a thousand times
because I need
more convincing

*"pain, pain, pain."