you, crowned
by the heartache
of knowing love
and inability
to move further
than flowering
of feelings &
just for show.
does it pain you,
the fear of less
than you gave, to
make up for lost time
in the hours we
spent sharing playlists
and not ourselves?
knowing i've spent
all the bisous i
had saved in my
shirt pocket for
moments like this
of lust & loss
of connection.
i hate love poems
but it seems that's all i have
these last few weeks.
i love love, but
only if it's authentic,
though i've noticed
that's a rarity in my realm.