It's early morn, too early to be mourning over you.
You've consumed so much, in such a small amount of time.
But then, maybe, there wasn't that much to suck out of me.
Perfect as a fresh peach.
I was happy with what you brought to the table.
Yet, I did enable you to do the things you do to make me fall out oflove with you.
I know you only cared to a certain extent.
I was a replacement, just like she, just like her, even maybe, he?
You cannot love what you are.
You saw that in me, when I first entered your car.
She's perfect, you thought, easy to distraught.
She'll miss more of me, than I of her, perfect.
Or maybe, I'm giving you too much credit.
Maybe, you don't plan ahead with the lives you shred.
It could be by accident, you could be one of life's many meaningless, stabs of pain, that come after a heavy, summer,rain.
Oh, how I went in vain.
I did everything I told myself Iwouldn't do with you.
Moving on is such a chore, when really, you choose not to move at all.
Not ready to fall into the clutches of someone cunning, and mischievous like you.
Such a fool am I, for letting you hear me cry.
You soaked it up like a warm, bubble, bath.
Splashing in my tears like puddles from fallen rain.
So insane, I need to stop, before my brain inevitably pops.
Confetti, streaming out of my mind, memories of our nights, and afternoons.
I crawl up into a ball, sink far beneath myself, crying for help.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.
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