Here I am
Writing poems about love.
While love for me
Is now just a hellish nightmare
Filled with betrayals
Time and time again.
Love for me
Is just me trying to be someone's else's ideal.
Me trying to twist myself
Into unknown shapes.
Love for me
Is a bruise on my cheek
And broken, shattered pieces of glass
On the floor,
Showing me beautiful rainbows
When hit by light.
Love for me
Is a dark, dark room,
Strange noises between strange sheets,
Strange moans of strange people,
Strange feelings.
