Love letter # 322

There are so many reasons to say no. Like the world. And bruises. Like all the busted myths we no longer believe. And the fact that it’s easier to be alone than to contemplate another wound. Cos we’re so over scars, aren’t we? I mean, who needs the drama. It’s just so fucking teenage. So vomitously Hollywood. No one in their right mind buys that rom-com, soulmate shit anymore. Least of all you and me.

So walk away, my cynical star. Turn around. Go home to your cat. To fucking Facebook. Me, I’ll just stay here. Bottle of red. A thousand songs of heartache. Bleeding like a river, despite all the clotting agents. But they’ll never break our hearts again, will they? Oh no.

For even though it melts me just to look at you sometimes, I’m far too cool and together to let it all become something as absurd as love. Not in a million years.

Which is just how you want it, right?





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