elated

I am simply too odd to be anybody’s girlfriend.

I know how the story goes;

One plain day

I’ll be about minding my business

that’s when I catch his eye and he, mine

we will smile and be shy

until one of us musters up the boldness to break the dizzying cycle and say a few words

and this proficient-with-his-conversation type of man will utterly abolish me

yet I still end up meeting him every evening at seven,

for eighteen months straight

and on the five hundred and forty-eighth day he will annihilate the curvature of my spine

and claim my insides no longer mine…

trapped in his chambers

he leaves me and I will cry; until I drown

and the near death experience is enough to shake me back to my senses

only then will I leave.

My War on Love has yet to be conquered.

I fear I may never.

I fight an effortless battle amongst skilled marksmen

Whom of which are quick with their tongue and merciless  with emotion.

Such a skirmish has already coast me my virginity, my credence, and my overall sanity

but it has yet to assassinate my heart.

Could I ever really live without my heart?