I spied love in all of the useless places—
I overdid it.
I spied it in your hands,
look for it in your ignorance,
searched in your selfishness,
to find the conclusion- not love, but I’m an illusion.
Clichés,
Broken-hearted people saying:
“love does not exist.”
Oh dear,
believe me it does, but won’t ever come to your stagnant state of mind again.
Different locations:
buses,
parks,
theaters,
houses.
I spilled all of my feelings around the town.
I’d be wrong to say I’m looking for them.
But even if I did,
I would never find one again.