I pushed my heart off the top
the building and called it death by
free fall is beautiful and heartbreak
you see he told me that love is
maybe like a summer dream,
hot and sweltering half baked in the
sun in hues of sepia and vintage tones,
like the polaroids I love so much.
but when the sun has set and the
midnight hues of black sets in,
love often turns into a war cry that
I smoke in my throat to feel the
ashes burn my tongue and his
name an aftermath of the battle,
battered and bruised.
there is melancholy in the air,
an undercurrent of regret that
makes my lungs feel full.
my heart is heavy with the
words that I bury in my throat,
the letters seep with the anger
I can rarely hide.
regret is a visceral being that
breathes down my spine,
chilling my bones and
making me numb.
love was not supposed to be this.
it was supposed to be a 90’s pop song
that I play in the vinyl record on
a rainy afternoon.
now love has turned into a tragedy
that will put even Shakespeare
free fall is beautiful.
but now death of this love will feel