how it feels when it ends.

I fell for it again
What was it – the tenth
twelfth
fifteenth time?
I’m sure it’s no crime
to spend considerable time
hoping that one day
things will be fine
or you might be mine
or we might be sublimely
submerged in the kind
of bliss
mainly reserved
for what follows the
twist
at the end of a nine
-and-a-half out of ten
romantic comedy
I must have missed
that time that you
kissed
me and said it meant less
than the feelings confessed
by myself; I’m a mess
in a cheap floral dress
worn to impress
I didn’t mean
to cause a huge scene
in your head
it was obscene
of me
to even believe
that you’d offer reprieve
and allow me to dream
that we could be good
and life could lean
into the next scene
with children and cars
and houses and faraway
holidays
and nights spent
in hot, sweaty bars
reliving our youth
and finding out our
lust
and our passion
had never gone far
as we rolled into bed
and you roll round my head
and I around yours.
I suppose I should learn
but I’ll keep getting
burned
because i love
being in love
with being
in love

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One response to “how it feels when it ends.

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