Love Is A Tragedy, A Very Splendored One

Love isn’t really a many splendored thing,

It doesn’t lift us up where we belong.

Love brings us down so hard until we’re underground,

And then,

There’s nothing left of us to love.

 

There is only forget,

Which is a feeling that eventually overpowers love.

It just takes time,

Something that lends itself too little to truly experience “love.”

 

Romantic love is a joke,

Because people desert you when you most need them,

And when you expose yourself,

All that’s left is your naked body lying down on that bedroom floor.

 

So tell me, where is Love?

Because I sure didn’t find him…

Under the crevices of my skirt.

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