Every time
I feel you are about to open up,
You go and remind me
That you are not in love
By cherry-picking external interests
Right in my face.
My mistake
For banking on the promises
That you presented
On a silver platter.
By now,
I should definitely recognize
Your patterns.
You give just enough
To get a ðŸ–ðŸ–ðŸ–
Then,
You’re back
To the other side of the tracks
Flaunting your greener grass.
What an ass
You make of me every time.
And what a fool I make of myself
By crossing every single line
That you draw in the sand.
I always find myself
Disregarding prior illusions
Just to hold your hand
For walks on the beach
That always turn into
Me breaking down
In the middle of the street
After being tossed out
Of a home
That I never had the pleasure
Of entering.
Perhaps
The day will come
That I stop fighting for encounters
That aren’t even worth mentioning.
Copyright 2020 by Kentrell Blanche