love doesn´t die from a gunshot,
doesn´t scream,
doesn´t cry
doesn´t jump out the window
like in those damn movies.
no.
love fades like a forgotten cigarette,
dries up like warm beer in the sun,
turn into routine,
the same damn smell,
words that no longer rattle your chest.
it´s not that one day you wake up and
stop loving her,
it´s that you realize
you no longer care if she comes or not,
if she laughs or cries,
if she dreams of you or someone else.
love, my friend,
get tired.
it rips in awkward silences,
in the "are you okey?" that sounds like
paperwork,
in hands that touch
but don´t feel.
it´s not about cheating
or another bed,
sometimes you just
get fed up.
like the same plate,
the same bar,
the same damn mirror every morning.
and then
it´s no longer love
it´s nostalgia.
it´s attachment.
it´s fear of starting over.
love doesn´t die,
it falls apart,
and you just
get used to
the dust.
About the Creator
Javier
My name is Javier, and I find inspiration in every story people share with me. From their words, poems and tales are born, written with passion,
Comments (1)
Wow. This one hits deep! The imagery is sharp that “forgotten cigarette” and “warm beer in the sun”—chef’s kiss ✨