I could not write love poems

I could never write love poems til I met you.

Could never describe how it felt to love

To love as deeply as I do

As I have

I could never write love poems without them becoming tear drops on the paper

Could never hold it together long enough to write down my love

Til you

But this isn’t a love poem

Not to you

This is a question wrapped in the shape of a prayer.

Why was I not good enough for you?

Why do you drag me along like a broken chain at your feet?

Was I always just a game for you to play on the nights when you were restless?

This is not a love poem,

Not for you.

This is a love poem to me

For I deserve better than your broken love

I deserve better than your treasure chest full of party tricks

Than your theater of false affection

I deserve to be caught when I have fallen

To be held when I need holding

To be more than just a passing thought on a Tuesday afternoon.

And I sure as hell deserve a text back.

I am too old to be falling for the same tricks

You are too old to be playing with toys

And the world could end any day now

Go up in flames,

Erupt into war,

Pass like a whisper in the night.

And it kills me inside

It really kills me to know

That I’d still choose to spend every last minute

Every last moment.

With you.