Rewrite. Re-record. Re-playback.
I write my love for you in fictional stories where I always win and you always lose… your cool. You take off your cool and you cool it with me.
But then we erase. Life erases. Time erases, at least, that’s what they say.
But what do they know, anyway?
I write my love for you in non-fictional poems where I never win and you always end up happy with him… forever. I never want you to be unhappy with me, so I make you happy with him.
But then you erase. Life erases. Time erases, at least… you know.
But what do you know, anyway?
I write my love for you in composition notebooks and broken cell phones and bathroom stalls where you never win and I end up happy with her… for now. I never want you to be sad without me, so I always add a for now to it all, because the future is uncertain.
But then I erase. Life erases. Time erases, at least… that’s what I say.
But what do I know, anyway?