A Poem About a Guy Who Never Existed

My palms had their own heartbeat
and our love had its own soundtrack,
the kind I would play over and over
on a rainy Saturday afternoon.
Your eyes had their own language
and I tried my best to learn it
but I think it changed everyday;
you left me tongue-tied, dizzy,
you left me wanting more.
I believed when I was with you,
believed in what? I don’t know, nothing,
everything,
just about anything.
And the funny thing was
I knew none of it was true,
I knew none of it was real.
I can still hear you call me her name
and I can still feel the embrace
you never meant me to have
and your kisses,
warm on my face,
were labelled “mistake” by your harshness.
I was your mistake,
but you were my everything.
(You are her mistake,
and she is your everything.)
I think I knew how this soundtrack would end
but I guess I always thought the record had two sides
and that I could easily flip it over,
play the second half,
repeat.

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