I Don't Want to Write Another Love Story
midnight
I sit on the edge of the bed
my eyes want to call it a night
but lights still flicker in my head
in the dark, I hear a whisper
“write something,
it’ll make you feel better.”
so on a scavenger hunt, I go
through my brain
where I hope ideas will flow
and it did, straight to my heart
here’s an attempt to make a piece of art
I try to come up with a story
from history to fantasy
but in each chapter, all I can see
are flashbacks of when you were with me
I stop myself
I don’t want to write another love story
but like a puppet on a string
a pen and paper I hold on to
and all the memory that it brings
your hand, your skin, when I was sitting next to
I stop myself
I don’t want to write another love story
‘midnight’
I start to write
now lying on the bed, feeling light
four pillows surround me
remember when it was you
talking to me until three?
I stop myself
fuck, I really don’t want to write another love story
the scavenger hunt resumes
like that late night, or was it early morning?
to 7/11 we went, pajamas and dress shoes
the reason we were going?
to find a cure for our hangover
but we came back with more whiskey and a cheeseburger
I stop myself, this time with a smile
but I still don’t want to write another love story
on the third paragraph, I’ve written up
a story I try to come up
except this seemed easy
for this was not a fantasy
though in every line, I tried to find
a perfect word that rhymed
but this is no Romeo and Juliet
and I forget that I’m no poet
so I stop myself
I don’t want to write another fucking love story
but come on, who was I kidding?
this was merely a tragedy
for a romantic novel has two lovers
but my narrative only has one to cover
so I continue
because I am not writing another love story
maybe a comedy or even a mystery
because it’s almost a joke how we came to be
if people found out, perhaps they’ll even be scared of me
so I continue
because I am not writing another love story
it wasn’t even melancholy when you said goodbye to me
you turned the table and said that I wasn't ready
when it was I that lost myself just to keep you by me
so I continue
because I am not writing another love story
but now I’ll gradually wrap up with an apology
some for you but mostly for me
I’m sorry if you felt I was too much
I just couldn’t resist your every touch
you were a fantasy brought to my reality
it would help if you came with a warning
to wake me up from this dreaming
in the fourth paragraph, do you remember?
I wrote about a puppet, just like me on that cold December
now the strings I cut, as an apology
hey man in the mirror, do you feel my sincerity?
so now I’ll stop
for this is not another love story
this is now part of history
however, allow me to end in gratitude
though time, toward us, maybe rude
yet when you were with me, you improved my mood
I reread the line above
it’s quite cheesy, I scoff
but I don’t know how to end this verse
for I am not a poet first
and this is not another love story
© 2021 Benjamin Labajo
