I believe in broken love and love lost,
Which may seem like two separate things;
However, they are in unison.
Love has grown to become so cliche and overplayed;
But in it's most pure form is spectacular and divine Until taken advantage of.
Love can come young,
but it is rarely understood, ever.
When love is misinterpreted,
There is chance for it to become broken.
Then, after the love breaks,
It leaks out until lost
In a deep ocean of emotions and thoughts.

Three years ago,
My first serious relationship had started.
I was completely clueless to what had started happening.
I knew I had felt different.
I began developing a sense of "we" instead of "me".
I had never been so happy, intrigued, or fascinated.
All this by another mortal human being.

After a few months,
I realized I had finally started experiencing what seemed to be true love;
And as time progressed,
I lost myself
For what I thought was the relationship itself.
I attempted to regain independence,
But one thing lead to another
And hate began overpowering the love and affection.

Though I never left,
I found another lover.
Well, I guess one could say another found me. Misconstruing love and lust,
I drifted into a world of sin and slickness.
My needs were finally being catered to
As I indulged in the best of both worlds.

I felt as if I finally deserved this.
I had been faithful for two years,
So shouldn't I get some free time?
After all, I stayed after they cheated.
They can do the same,
Especially since I won't keep this up for long.
I thought this was acceptable in my own eyes,
Yet I ignored the agonizing conviction that laid within my heart of being wrong.

One night, things had come to a ******
Between the new lover and I.
In the moment,
Boundaries of existence were broken.
However, afterwards I realized I had soiled the upmost precious thing I had ever possessed,
And that would be true love.
How could I have done this for pleasure?

Within a week, guilt had overtaken me.
I had to either come clean or leave.
I knew I would hurt her if I had told the truth
More than if I left.
I said that we were no longer meant to be
Because our love had been broken with fighting and deceit.

She cried for a week,
Begging me to come back.
I realized I had done something so horrid.
I could never take it back.
I left someone good for someone great.
So, why did I feel so bad?

Now, I am without either
Because of the guilt trip I went through.
I had broken a love.
And now, love was lost in the sea of emotions,
Sinking to the infinite depths of darkness
To never be found again.

though a might bit out of vogue
   years after chart topping renown came
since attainment sans high water mark of fame
one combination amongst, who made a name
for himself countless other scenarios
   could be drafted incorporating addressing same
song titles arranged in an alternate combination
   from the GREEN DAY audiofile playlist,
   hoop fully you get my aim.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As an atypical GREEN DAY fan, when exorcising
mailor daemons along the boulevard of broken dreams
easily misconstruing myself as just another American Idiot,
who mentally, frantically, emotionally veers away from
painful memories linkedin with when September ends.

This mid dull aged mwm accidentally poured 409 in his
coffee maker as proof positive that he iz a basket case.
All the time now (and for about the previous 1000 hours)

carousing Fitbit gremlins housed inside luckless oaf release
trigger, where 21 guns fire banking, bidding, bumping
uglies good riddance to this atheist. Jesus of suburbia waits
with waxed wings, when I come around to recant my ******
babble (attempting to appear as resident of Bend, Oregon.

This faux gad shill Norwegian bachelor redoubt patriot)
indicative of mine sigh lent kickstarter impression that
casts me as off kilter (psychologically), when I strive
to affect the to become welcome to my paradise. This
vantage point (especially atop Mount Everest) offers

the longview sans the big bang theory, where a deafening
cosmic blitzkrieg taught scattered mortals the best way
to know your enemy amidst camouflage, espionage,
hostage taken, yet key modes to keep still breathing
(soundlessly) without being detected.

Minority held opinion if flapjacked, highjacked, kidnapped,
await an opportune circumstance before thrusting out
your thumb vis a vis *** pen to reach sought after
destination (i.e. Lillies of the fields) hitchin' a ride
ideally before experiencing a 21st century breakdown.

While stranded amidst Foreigners, (who exhale Earth,
Wind and Fire) donned as Goo Goo Dolls), perchance
some buzz feeding, gabbing human Beatle browed
Beastie Boy, who doth sport Hair re: Kinks, a patented
trademark of The Village People) will trumpet.

Heed call to arms, via revolution aery radio broadcast
thru the Smash faced mouthpiece of a Ludicris Prince
too dumb to die. Meanwhile Straycats (on the outlook
page number two:

for a stray heart, and potential mate fo Cinderella)
slink into a Soundgarden sanitarium remaining stock
still as Indigo Girls doppelganger. Pseudo surveillance
(controlled by an AC/DC Lumineers progressive Tumblr
Youtube filmed vanity fair, yet essentially shape
shifting ing flickr ring into a tiffany shaped lamp

adorned capriciously, elegantly, garishly invoking
kooky, loopy, lubriciously monied popinjay. Soliloquy
spiel squawking prurient mumbling Jeeves only adds
further confusion to an otherwise totally tubularly
uneventful Rainbow coalition gathering.

This impromptu razzmatazz inadvertently manifests
into a state of the art IdentityGuard espying anyone
with an aim to **** the Dee Jay. He rose from the ranks
as a working class hero, and under the private tutelage
of Saint Jimmy elbowed sought out top honors to be
the ring leader for the upcoming Macy's Day Parade.

This honorific guest feted endowed duty stipulated
that Geek Stink Breath be remedied with any reason
able over the counter breath freshener. Once outfitted
for this fountainhead title (where Atlas Shrugs before

moseying off to Buffalo) hopefully locates whatser
name (an awesome bejeweled charming dame with
a Heart of Queen Latifah). Many admirers and suitors
of said Mademoiselle reckon she ranks as Last of
The Mohicans, as well The Last of The American Girls.

She (this Lady GaGa holds out against pledging her troth
at the countless hot-mails knowing full well, that
nice guys finish last. Oft times behavior of this
Super ***** ping Cheap Trick playing Jewel

appears as a walking contradiction, though nobody
ever faulted said Uber Lourdes for remembering
the forgotten twittering Mama's and Papa's,
whose influence 2,000 light years away prompts
even the staunchest cynic to claim west assured,
cuz East Jesus Nowhere to be found.

Cut your tongue on my apathy and paint me a picture of your woes.
Make the contrast sharp, so that I understand.
Don’t go muddying up the image with intricacies, get to the point.
We don’t want any misconstruing.
Untie the tongue of your callousness. I’m sure she’s got plenty to say.
If I’m going to bleed for you, I’m going to need you to lick my wounds.
Because the stars are starting to fade again and tomorrow just won’t mean much if you’re not here.