Anyway its not that everyday I find you
Fought demons, for that perfect brew
Looked all over to find a friend like you
To say anything without feeling blue
Yet, I am what I am. I had to ruin it.

I could say what I felt, and even flirt
My heart bounced back from the dirt
Life ached and again raced for rebirth
But I stammered. This wasn’t King’s Speech
And I wasn’t Colin Firth.
But then I had to ruin it.

I can see this is some kind of an illusion
The one faked by love and yet is gruesome
My puffed eyes and a throat with a lump
I want you to feel what I felt but only some
Yet I am what I am. Anyway, I had to ruin it.

Tagged: poetry