Your were a vision

of ornamental lies too

  pretty for me to

 

doubt. It was reckless

and invigorating, an

  empty-bellied list

 

of promises of

everything I hoped you would

  be. The prologue to

 

our story was my

favourite part of this mess.

  Once upon a time

 

you had an arthouse-

indie-songwriter appeal.

  Enchanting, only

 

inferior to that

smile you use to punctuate

  the rhythmic, slapstick

 

style in which you flirt.

Your pick up lines never fail

  you. A spellbinding

 

charm that has no cure.

Me, blind, infatuated

  with you. A charm for

 

which there is no cure.

Effortlessly flirtatious,

  compromising me

 

against my will. It

was certain. I fell for it.

  Puppy-love was a

 

great way to feel. Once

upon a time we described

  ourselves as label-

 

free. We were unique.

Intellectual Equals

  was the 'label free'

 

label we used as

our calling card because the

  love-story truths we

 

refuse to admit

has no musical score to

  build suspense. No sound

 

effects or slamming

doors. No howling wolves or an

  eery violin

 

scratching elements

of horror. You never gave

  me the right to want

 

more than your rations

of booze-laced lust wiothout love.

  I wanted nothing

 

more than for you to

pardon me and allow me

  the chance to love you

 

and your blessing for

me to be more than your speed-

  dial bad habit.

 

When the time came for

me to accept rejection

  everything that I

 

had reared into the

person that I am collapsed

  into itself and

 

leaving nothing but

the remains of all that we

  pretended to be.

 

I know that your fears

are the reason for your lies.

  I know you refuse

 

my giddy fooldom

because the child behind your

  cigarette cloud feels

 

the same about me.

Your fearful off-white lies fail

  to disguise that you

 

feel the same for me.

I have tirelessly scraped away

  at everything that

 

is wrong and foolish

about loving you and found

  nothing worth saving,

 

nothing worth keeping.

I am left desperately

  broken, love-trapped and

 

unspoken. We were

passionately attached but

  fraying at the seams.

 

Intellectual

equals once described what we

  refused to admit.

 

Emotionally

undone, lovingly silent.

  We just could not win.