They told me that the more time passes after a breakup the more we tend to think poorly of our ex-partners I don’t want to think badly of you But with each of our misencounters I find more reasons to believe I was married to a madman
We talked ate kissed I leave and feel empty Because the moment I walked through my front door I wasn’t going to find you I was looking for the part of me that’s missing
The life we built together feels centuries away I can’t remember it anymore but I know it existed Sometimes I’m startled I no longer have you Sometimes it makes me desperate Sometimes it makes me incredibly happy
I will take all this pain anxiety nervousness and turn it into poetry Sometimes it will come out beautiful Sometimes it will come out raw Both are deeply spiritual
In all my stories I always die in the end It can be a freedom It can be a prison So no matter the story I choose to tell the ending will be the same I don’t think that’s a bad thing
When I was little I wanted to write romance novels It was all I read But my heart won’t let me No matter how many love stories I start My soulmate is poetry
