Don’t Date Your Ex


She had a way with words, red lipstick
Stained the page but left no residue
Except on my pumping heart;
So in reality, I guess there was residue.
She had a way with words,
Sharp, biting, and enticing,
Eliciting a thrill and harrowing danger.

Her love was like a riptide;
Deadly, and deceptive, and enveloping.
My love like a lazy sea lapping at the shore,
Incomparable to her open water monsoon
On which my heart was but a dingy.
My God, she was like a typhoon in her love
And I was like Indian flatland in June;
I thirsted for her and waited and was ravaged,
Left brokenhearted on a bedroom floor.

Oh, but that golden goddess,
Empowered and invincible, was iron
Painted gold by the cruel hand of nostalgia.
Shouldn't I have let her stay there,
In fondest memory, strong and fatal?

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