God we're all junkies
Aimless addicts to a thing we called love
The way it compels you to feel
Like absolute trash
That my worth would be lowered if you were to leave
That me before you is a person who died
Because he ceased to exist the moment we crossed paths
And so we lament the past
But ignore the time gone by
Forcing meaning on meaningless times
She wasn't that great
No human could possibly be as flawless as this fictional sprite conjured by misfiring synapses in the folds of our mind
But we need it and we repeat to ourselves ad infinitum
"I don't know" "I don't know"
like its a mantra for relationship recovery
We were all knocked out cold by a swift sucker punch
But we praise the assailant?
Where is the logic in that?
To hell with it all.
We were better off never having known the pleasure of a four letter word that starts with L
and ends in morose monologue
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