A failed poem

I didn’t think about you tonight,

at least until now.
Does thinking about how I’m not thinking about you count as not thinking about you?

I didn’t write about you either.

I have recently but not yesterday,
nor the day before that.
That’s weird, right?

You weren’t in my dreams.

Although I often didn’t dream about you.
Why dream when the real thing was better?

Your lips didn’t race my heart,

or my hands up your thigh in a heated kiss on a cold, cold night.

I’m starting to think that maybe your spell has lifted.

That the magic is gone,
or merely has waned to the point of non-existence.

Our story didn’t didn’t last.

I failed at writing this poem.
You never liked poetry anyway.

2 thoughts on “A failed poem

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