Love Isn’t Real

Love isn’t real.
If love were real he’d still be with me.
Texting all day about his hopes and dreams.
If love were real I wouldn’t be crying all night. While he spends his time holding onto another girl real tight.
If love were real, I wouldn’t have a reason to be sad.
Reading all his comments about his girlfriend being bad.
If love were real then I wouldn’t have to feel the heartbreak a year later.
But here I am, writing while he dates her. Maybe the reason I feel love isn’t real is because of the constant betrayal.
Perhaps it’s the loneliness in the darkest of times.
Or when it hits in the middle of class, sublime.

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