You once told me
I always looked uptight.
We sat together under the tree
yet I felt it would be alright.
I felt uneasy when it was said,
but brushing it off was fine.
Somehow I still felt we were dead
and my heart wanted to whine.
And cry
with sorrow.
For I
will no longer see you tomorrow,
Because as I said,
Our love was dead.

I grab an old Ramones t-shirt
I look for a pair of jeans to match.
looking down to search through the pile of clothes on my floor.
My eye catches the corner of a card she made for me.
A beautiful drawing of a flower.
Hearts and a small paragraph explaining her love.
The love that went cold
and unresponsive.
Sometimes I still miss the girl who broke my heart
and shattered it
over and over.
I see the pants and set them on the shirt.
I will wear this outfit tomorrow

Your love was not true.
Only a lie,
given on a beautiful plate of roses,
but I ripped them all
and shattered the plate
and killed love.
I lied about it.
But you lied first.

Our love was built on friendship too deep.
It was beautiful,
and so was the love I felt.
So I was deceived
By something inside me screaming
and yearning
to jump free.
Free of pain and darkness.
But that only was the cause of your suffering.

Was what you told me real?
Where the tellings you said of love a reality,
Or were they just
something to say
in the emptiness
that we were so afraid of.
Were you afraid of me?
Scared of the death I told.
Scared of the loneliness and darkness my heart spoke of?

I never meant for this to be the way of ending.
You told me we would talk,
as friends,
as best friends.
But I was lied to.
A lie as beautiful as roses,
on a golden, carved plate.
But you cut the roses in half.
And threw away the plate
and forgot.

I kept the pieces.

I watched you cry.