We found something worse than hate and love,
something that spawns when a heart is lost
and we thought it didn't exist, but it does
and we got hit with it's sun like the moss of a tree.

So now every time I fall for another one
it feels more like the ending of summer
and less like my favorite season.

Our mouths are loaded pistols
with golden bullet words that have no real direction,
spraying upwards towards a cloudless night sky,
but they never quite hit the stars.

I picked you out like a flower in a field
where the rain clouds stay,
where the ruiners of all good things play,
with temporary wars between you and I.

I moved your eyes like a chess piece
to wherever I walked in the room
so I checked into checkmate
so you could destroy me.
I thought you would have moved your rook
to E6, ending in a stalemate and us in love forever...

But you said "I'm so sorry" right before knocking my king over.

I hate your checkered past. I'm going to play solitaire.