my ex thinks we're getting back together. we're not.
build a bridge and get over it.i believe in apologies like children believe in santa claus
(they only make an appearance once a year and eventually i grew out of it)
bright lights stay on all night in new york
but they eventually shatter under the weight of tourists
as we have
our love crumples itself in office wastebaskets and empty ice cream cartons
empty sidewalks and back alleys remember the way we kissed
the darkness comforts the loneliness
and his expectations are diffused by the reality that beauty cannot exist in falsehoods
so we are ugly in the habit of our deceit
"yes I f.cked him."
"yes I f.cked her."
the truth is a beautiful beginning to the ending
and though the tears add salt to the wounds
the pain lets me know that the bleeding will cease and my heart will beat anyway
resilient to the forbidden text messages and the forgetful mind
we can only notice that life moves on as it ends
so the four walls cave in to our indiscretions
and the floor shakes till it breaks
the heart: his, mine and whoever else got wrapped up in our claws collapse in defeat
we are over
we don't interlock fingers and we don't whisper secrets to each other's lips
we are silent films reflecting off of one other's surfaces
emotions creep over our faces trying to explain the things we cannot say
the tears burn
the clouds pour
the love ends
x marks the spot
warning: ex boyfriend lives here. here's your spare key.
tlloyd
No comments:
Post a Comment