Love, love, love.

You were always so naïve.
Thinking that all those deep cuts
On your heart would scar over
Faster than the ones on your
Arms, but can I ask you now;
Is that really the case?

I mean, love, did you honestly
Believe he wanted anything other
Than the fact that you were there,
And he would’ve gotten away with
It too, if he hadn’t been bored a
Little too quickly by your fascinating
Ideas, big mind, and thoughts his
Closed-minded being couldn’t even
Begin to comprehend.

And, love, you may be able to dream
But he knows how to play the game;
How to win before you even figure
Out the rules, and he tricked your
Open mind into closing itself off from
Ever loving again with words
Like wine, all bitter with a hint of syrupy
Sweetness that clouded out all of the reasons
You had to leave, and gave you one
To stay. I’m pretty damn sure you
Wish that you’d spit that wine in his face
And left, don’t you, love?

All smirks and laughter, clashing hard
With your crystallized, bright-eyed gaze-
Bet you thought that one would keep it
Interesting, when all it really did was
Leave you frustrated argument after argument
And him trying to make you believe
That it was your fault. But he always knew how
To play his game well, didn’t he?
I assume you came up with a question of your
Own with that beautiful open mind you’ve got.

You never can fix a broken
heart, can you, love?