For a year and 5 months they were in love,
a love quite odd but was suited so well
they formed a bond no one ever thought would quell.

All the hushed whispers and sneaky sleepovers.
Stolen kisses with pins to the bed and playful fights all over.
The warmth of their bodies slowly merging together.
The rise and fall of a chest with a racing heart in tune forever.
A head sat resting on ones breast moves in rhythm to the sway of slight breaths.
Soon the butterflies within awakened and infest them like death.

Love was their medication that they had diagnosed,
A treatment of her to pick up the pieces and put in their place
and a prescription for him to mend all the empty black space.

Their love was never perfect like how everyone wants,
but it was such a sight it made others feel daunt,
their downs were extremely low and the ups were so very high.
But they were intoxicated with their childish love times.

And like all love stories an end soon approached.
She'd detached herself from him, losing all hope,
and just sat and watched while he engrossed into dope,
Both of them forgetting their plans to elope.

Their fights lasted longer and their words grew harsher with anger and resentment.
Their ups soon drowned in hate while memories faded lost in the moment.
She started to long for attention of other people and freedom of her own life
while he immersed himself in his own pity blaming her for all the world's nasty rife.
The facade of perfect love was slowly combusting, filling their skies
with ashes of scorched memories that gathered down by.

On the night of a year and 5 months he just split,
said she made him feel like nothing and treated him like ****.
She sat in her bed crying typing *******,
As soon as she pressed send she knew what she had to do.
She held up her phone and texted him one line.
And in that moment it was over on the stop of a dime.

A year and 5 months was so quickly thrown away,
all of the time had just been tossed into disarray.
It was a year and 5 months that I broke his heart,
and its been a month in a half that I live to regret that part.

-Alicia Hubert