It’s true
I’m only in love with the idea of love, it feels
love in itself hasn’t quite been broken into
Like brand-new Jimmy Choos
that hurts my heels, makes me bleed
could it be a size too small for me?
Neither will being barefoot be any fun
you watch me, puzzled, at the dry run
take me, winds, toward my salvation, I just
need to be relieved of this fixation
Answer me honestly
why should I even try?
Is grass truly greener on the other side?
what business do I have
within all these reciprocal aberrations,
if love is just a lifeless version of infatuation.
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