About Love

he doesn't care about the pretty young girl holding his hand.

it's so much easier to forget the way it feels than relive the love in aching .

how does he teach himself to forget to love her?

how can he teach himself to forget the way she used to kiss him?

he doesn't care about the pretty young girl on her knees for him.

he misses his skin burning, untouched now.

this makes me wonder, does he know what it's like to be a ghost?

a fading ghoul in someone's life?

wailing and moaning, tripping about like a poltergeist begging for anyone to acknowledge them.

burning for eternity, praying to whoever will listen to keep their name alive.

who will teach him this?

who will turn him into this apparition?

certainly not you.

some other broad, a green eyed whore, someone you never liked.

he'll love her the way you loved him.

he'll suck her off and she'll disappear, like some magic trick,

he'll wonder how she did it, no smoke, no mirrors.

he'll sink like you did.

he won't think once about the pretty young girl who used to his hand, or her broken heart, or the gun.

there's always someone out there so magnificently selfish.

someone who won't look twice at the vulnerable fool lying in their bed, dreaming about the tomorrow that will never come.