your love is boring,
to put it nicely.
you
fit too well,
and you write like you're dying --
dripping words of broken hearts
and people made of cracked marble.
you don't believe in young love,
and yet every word out of your mouth
is about the boy that has your mind
(and heart)
wrapped around his finger.
you find beauty in the same self-destruction
within which he finds chaos.
you love him,
he loves you,
and you are finally all you never wanted to be.
but i guess that's all too common
when you pair a thunderstorm
with a tornado.
i guess that's all too common
when you go looking for love
in all the wrong places.
i guess that's all too common
when you fall in love
with a broken compass.
(a.m.)