Many a times-
i have loved.
Running into awaiting arms,
crashing onto the one place warm,
'd last long I always, always believed
or maybe them beliefs were restricted-
to my thoughts.
Many a times-
I have loved,
or so I thought.
Every love that ever touched,
little had I known-
I was provided with faux.
Yes, shiny and everything,
but woven it was-
not for me to get garbed.
Many a times-
No.
But why was I always at fault?
"It's not me it's you"
Now an earworm,
wait-
Do I not know hove to love,
at all?
