0 Days Since My Heart’s Last Nonsense

I tell you every day,

when I wake up,

a slave in your sheets,

that it doesn’t have to be true love.

I follow you from morning,

‘til night,

agonising over the accuracy

with which you target my soul,

by doing nothing in particular,

but being so damn persuasive.

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Being in love is a messy, miserable business,

hearts lead their victims,

to their death,

tricking them into expecting everything.

I want everything,

with you,

even if it hurts,

even if I don’t know exactly what everything is.

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Darling,

I miss the past,

I am the puritan hearted ingenuine ingenue,

who picked apart,

your ageing heart,

transporting out of myself,

so I could watch your essence melt,

inside of my mouth,

elated candy floss.

I didn’t expect you to expertly change me.

The stalkee has become the stalked.

It has been zero days,

since my heart’s last nonsense.


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