Ioana B.

You could probably
break my heart,
but there
is nothing
left to break.

I finally realized that
you are the loser
in this game,
called love.

I love you,
but you don’t love me back.

I have
nothing to loss,
yet you have
all of this love to lose.

I let you
break my heart
so many times
that now
I have so many more pieces
to
love you with.

I love you more
than I ever loved myself.

In the end,
it still
isn’t enough.

That morning
you asked me
if I ever feel lonely
and I said I don’t.

Now I ask you:
can one truly feel lonely,
when one has been
nothing but lonely
for most of ones life?

That morning
you told me
you were leaving,
and I let you go.

I let you go
not because I didn’t care
about you,
us,
or what had just happened
between us.

I let you go
because I cared too much,
but you were too blind
and too loud
to hear what my heart
had been showing
and telling you
all this time.

I like you,
said my heart.

Don’t,
replied your voice,
running through my head.

That morning
you kissed me on the lips,
right before you walked out my door.

That was
the most bitter sweet kiss
of my entire life.

Not because you were leaving,
but because a part of me
felt like this was going to be
the last time you’d ever
kiss me.

Sometimes,
not that often lately,
I think about you
and wonder.

I wonder if things
could have gone different
between the two of us
if that morning
I had done something
to make you stay.

Then I remind myself,
I did try to keep you from leaving.

But you were too loud
to hear my soul.

And my mouth was too tired
of always having to speak louder.

Like I told you
so many other times,
I saw something in you
when I first noticed
your face.

I saw beauty,
and it had nothing to do
with your pretty face.

I saw beauty
deep inside your soul.

… or so I thought.

Too bad
it was probably just my imagination
playing games with me,
just like you did.

There was nothing deep
about your beauty,
just as there
was never something deep
about the way you felt about me.

Not that night we first met,
November 17th.

Not that other night,
two weeks later,
when you first kissed me
on the cheek.

And especially,
not that morning
you came over to my place
to talk,
but we ended up having sex.

Too bad
your beauty only existed
inside of my head.

Your beauty only existed
because my fucking mind
built you up to be
the most beautiful person on Earth,
while you did nothing
but show me your ugly side.