I can collect seconds
like petals of a flower
and hold them in my hand
and breathe in the sweet
sickly smell of memories
that Thursday afternoon
When I watched
the world end
in your arms
What a myth
to even assume I
belonged there
in the first place
or that how
I felt when your
lips pressed against mine
was something
wicked lovely
because when
I look back at it now
all it is, is sad.
But then sadness
can take over
So when your
pretend "Love"
enters my brain,
I gather it up
because I have never
felt like
that before
and surely
I must be mistaken
but your mouth
Spoke words
that hung heavy.
Empty the air
but I'm really sure you really did
mean it once. I mean
it doesn't mean
anything anymore.