lack of love

Wrong Sort of Love

Three weeks of torture

Three weeks of pain

Three weeks of waiting for you,

in the pouring rain.


You were the one who said you loved me,

Took my hand in yours,

Told me how happy we could be,

If I married you, and you married me


Nights of talking,

Nights of loving,

Nights of longing to stay,

But curfew got in the way


You were older,

But I was wiser,

You were gentle,

But I was kinder


I don’t long to go back,

But I long for what we had,

That’s impossible though,

You may be gentle but your core is bad.


You can’t marry,

If you’re tangled to another,

I guess I was your secret,

and your lover


Three days after,

You’re on your way,

To see your picture perfect family,

Just like me to beg you to stay,

 

But, unlike me, they won’t be the first to walk away.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Girlishly wrote this about the wrong kind of man, because I was blindsided in a way that no one should ever be. Reading over it still brings a tear to my eye.