Shitty Love Cliches


That horribly overused cliche

The one where you’re ready to text her

Not just with a couple of words

But your entire heart laid raw in a shitty text box

Having spilled your truth your pain your misery your hatred your love your longing your desire your life your death

You’re all up for jumping in front of the train

Because when it hits you and sends you flying into the air

Bones ajar, a mangled wreck

You’ll be moving again, at the very least

You no longer will be the stale stagnant whirl of mundane polluted air at that point

You’ll be more broken but at least you’re doing something by bleeding

And your guitar frets will be smeared with that same blood one day

Because your blood on that text

That you tapped backspace on timidly and cowardly

May very well never even get to her

Only finding its way into the lyrics of a lovesick song you may never write

Or a hopeless poem like this you thought you’d never draft

Never getting to the person you’ll never know the same again

John Mayer poised this heartbreak pleasurably as Slow Dancing In A Burning Room

But he didn’t mention in the song that you’re dancing alone in the burning room

Even his Strat’s pretty cleans have left you for good

“Go cry about it why don’t you?”

*backspace backspace backspace*

The blank textbox stares at you while you stare back

“How are you?”


The textbox wasn’t any less blank when you typed that, by the way

I just thought I’d let you know.


*read best while on a binge of John Mayer’s music, lovesickness, and a burning love-hate conflict.


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