My poetic senses will grow stale
The words escaping me each and every time
For I know what it’s like
To be immortalized
In love and heartbreak
To be worshiped
In song and in ode
To be penned
Too many times until you lose all meaning
This is not you
You are not ideal
You are as surreal as hurt
We are as casual as fiction
I will not romanticize you to the point of lucidity
And the tides will not turn when you arrive
The stars will not fall when you leave
The world will not stop for us
The words of love will not come
All because I will not love you like a writer
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 7:21 AM UTC
My poetic senses will grow stale
The words escaping me each and every time
For I know what it’s like
To be immortalized
In love and heartbreak
To be worshiped
In song and in ode
To be penned
Too many times until you lose all meaning
This is not you
You are not ideal
You are as surreal as hurt
We are as casual as fiction
I will not romanticize you to the point of lucidity
And the tides will not turn when you arrive
The stars will not fall when you leave
The world will not stop for us
The words of love will not come
All because I will not love you like a writer
