The Last Poem I'm Wasting on Love

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
I've said it before, but this time it's for real.

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
No more heartfelt papers on how you did me wrong.

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
I'm tired of spending hours trying to find the words to match the feelings.

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
Addicted to the desire to tell the world what you did, as if it would make it easier, as if I'd forget.

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
You're sitting back, not caring, while the pain lingers on paper for me to dwell over.

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
Why do I torture myself? Like, experiencing the real thing wasn't hard enough.

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.
But of course I know, this isn't the last time I'll fall too hard, and land flat on my face.

I know it's part of life, but why am I the one who always gets hurt? Aren't there two sides to every relationship?

It seems so easy for the other half to let go of me.

And honestly, I know this isn't the last one I'm wasting on love.

So, I'll say it once more, with good intentions and hopes.

I think...

This is the last one I'm wasting on love.