What's in holding hands now,
when later you'll not even remember
the color of eyes of your lover.
What's in bringing favorite flower,
when you're going to forget,
the first time how you both met.

Sick of falling in love,
I'd rather stay out of love.
For I hate looking at
red fake beating hearts,
or the cupid who's got
no better work to do
than making and breaking
creating and destroying
stupid hearts, endings and starts.

Counting like I always do,
but not days this time,
or shades of black and blue.
Stars appear less in number,
all fallen to make my wish come true?
or are they tryin to hide behind,
the sheet of smoke and dust?
I'm not trying to even find,
why stars don't shine bright enough,
or how they hear the bells chime
when two souls fall in love.

Maybe they just pretend,
how the days they spend,
waiting to get one glimpse,
to feel the countless butterflies,
and to believe known lies.

It's good I don't feel anymore,
numb to the core,
Anti- Love a few more days
before I start hunting for
eye candies?!?