Love Is Crap

Love Is Crap

Love is crap, it shows up dressed as hope,

with clean hands and a convincing smile.

It promises warmth, a place to land,

then leaves you standing in your own echo.

Love is crap, it learns your breathing first,

memorises the cracks you try to hide.

It swears it will never use them,

then presses every one when it wants control.

Love is crap, it speaks in future tense,

talks about always, forever, soon.

Those words fall apart under pressure,

like cheap glass breaking in your mouth.

Love is crap, it teaches you patience,

while quietly draining your strength.

You wait, you bend, you explain yourself,

until your voice no longer sounds like yours.

Love is crap, it leaves behind questions,

stacked higher than the memories.

Was it real, was it me, was it worth it,

or just another lesson dressed as fate.

Love is crap, yet somehow it survives,

even after it burns everything down.

It sits in the chest like a bad habit,

waiting for another name and face.

Love is crap, and still we reach for it,

with bruised hearts and stubborn hands.

Knowing exactly how this ends,

and stepping forward anyway.