'you can´t tell me you're now as happy as you were when we were together.'
Oh, God.
What do I say?
Admit it's true?
Admit there is nobody else but you?
Irony-
What I want, you want, we want
Is a common goal
Is to be loved
For our foibles and faults and quirks-
Having found that it doesn't work
Between us.
I want you to be happy,
Free you from the curse of me
Which opened up your eyes to love-
How it could have been, and could be.
How to comfort you-
How can I
When you close yourself like a flower to night
And throw sarcasm shrapnel at me?
Love is crude, has no rules, has no rhyme scheme-
'2033 must be a good year for an apocalypse.'
You laugh. I dream.
