If I described my love |
Love is an endless thing that seems to short.
You’re getting warm in the middle of the winter.
And you’re getting ice cold during burning hot summer.
Love is that thing that makes you cry over an unanswered text.
But later on, love is the reason why you smiled, moving on.
Four letters and a thousand love letters.
I tried writing a few. But I stopped trying.
Cause I didn’t know where to send them.
I could have saved them, for a future memory.
But it would probably have looked sad;
a little girl with all her love letters, waiting for an address to matter.
Love kills another.
Love makes you blind when you just bought a new pair of glasses.
And damn, love makes you fall flat when you thought you had two balls in your crotch.
It’s making me crazy, dumb and hopeless.
It’s all in my head, as I carry it in my hands.
“No more”, I say. Love says “okay” and serves me another plate.
So God, if I don’t show up in church next Sunday, don’t judge me.
I just don’t think I will be able to sit straight, after a killing portion of love
and nobody to split the bill with.
Xoxo
Karlman
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