supposedly,
“love is”
it was supposed to be
an arrow through my chest.
instead it’s
an asteroid destroying a planet,
merciless,
demolishing all foundations.
i’m sick of it.
“pining for attention,”
wishing for
invisibility.
i don’t want your attention.
i won’t look at you,
so don’t look at me.
i’m sick of it.
“feverish faces,”
you talk to me
and i’m burning.
liquid fire pumps
through my veins,
and it’s unbearable.
i’m sick of it.
“and drumming hearts.”
screaming,
racing pulse,
left breathless,
drowning in a salty ocean,
lungs filling with liquid.
i’m sick of it.
this world was
fine.
boxed in a bedroom,
listening to stories
of other people,
but you’ve brought
unfamiliarity into this
dull world of mine.
the sun was never yellow,
the trees were never green,
pink was never a feeling.
this world was
grey,
black,
and white.
put everything
back to normal.
because i’m sick
of being
lovesick.
—love is a disease i'm not ready to experience alone