The romantics

The romantics never get what we desire, we kiss the frogs and make them immortal. We are in love with the soul, the way he passes the cigarettes and the steps he jumps. 

Always in denial and with the heart bleeding from our fingers. 

We are damaged in unable to love the one we are looking for because we are frightened to our bones that they break us because we are made of porcelain and there is no tattoo to mark and explain it.

We are ruined that we see you leaving three blocks up and we have lips with the want to say don’t go. However, our value is in the words we write and not those we say.

We lose the midnight kiss, first love, obsession and relationship.

We are cursed in committing the same sin of loving without restrictions and never achieving it.

T.A.