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He Was Not My Type
In the pouring rain.
He waited to see me.
Outside my small flat
day after day.
Just to catch a glimpse of me

I told him he was not my type.
That I was not interested.
But he stayed.
I finally gave in
and he charmed me.
it’s amazing
he was so ordinary
yet he got to me.

He knew all my moods
Happy sad or often broken.
He always knew just what to say
to send the sadness away.
How did he always
make me feel so beautiful?.

I don’t know why
I married him.
Perhaps because
he was so gentle
and I knew
he would never
try to control me.

I have lost him now.
and my world is
not as bright.

There have been other imposters.
I danced the choreographed
movements of love with them.
But when the evening
light faded to darkness.
It was you honey
always you.
only you
knew how to fix me
Pro-****?
I hope you're pro-behind bars too cause that's where you're going.
The facts that pro **** groups exist **** me off, I'm getting sick thinking about it.
A heart isn't a game
*** isn't a game or a gamble
Tears are potions of frustration and pain
*** was never intended to be physical gain
I could knock on this ****
Point out everything not worth it
But still no one would ever get what my mouth tries to say
This age, and this day
Nothing but a petty game I'll have to play
So tired.

— The End —