The Irony



It wasn't the type of love

that they wrote poems about.

It wasn't something

That could be captured by a pen on paper.

Not even these words

Spilled by a victim of the pen,

Can surmise the beauty of the way he smiled at her.

Or the way she poured his coffee.

Or how his heart broke when it all fell apart. 

How the light faded from her eyes,

How you could watch the hope crack in his face.

The way his hands fell.

The way her body dropped.

The way it was so abrupt that you could watch the "I do" fall from her lips as she promised herself to him.

The way he couldn't handle it.

The way he finished his promise of forever to her.

They way they're together, 

To write poems about it. 



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