I could never write love poems til I met you.
Could never describe how it felt to love
To love as deeply as I do
As I have
I could never write love poems without them becoming tear drops on the paper
Could never hold it together long enough to write down my love
But this isn’t a love poem
Not to you
This is a question wrapped in the shape of a prayer.
Why was I not good enough for you?
Why do you drag me along like a broken chain at your feet?
Was I always just a game for you to play on the nights when you were restless?
This is not a love poem,
Not for you.
This is a love poem to me
For I deserve better than your broken love
I deserve better than your treasure chest full of party tricks
Than your theater of false affection
I deserve to be caught when I have fallen
To be held when I need holding
To be more than just a passing thought on a Tuesday afternoon.
And I sure as hell deserve a text back.
I am too old to be falling for the same tricks
You are too old to be playing with toys
And the world could end any day now
Go up in flames,
Erupt into war,
Pass like a whisper in the night.
And it kills me inside
It really kills me to know
That I’d still choose to spend every last minute
Every last moment.