The Memory Of Being

you ruined what i loved about love
where what we had came from
how in the daily monotony, there can be
an instant between two people - that's deeper
than anything they've felt, a relationship formed
not from the pushed or planned
but from the brick and mortar
that make us such a sure thing
and so you set off with nothing, but fear
and a heart filled with building love
where all your happiness swarms from
and it's not just you and me - it's a godly scene
where everything that you don't see it exactly what revolts me
and leaves you battered, but at the time it didn't matter
you felt something but nothing that hurts you
only a hot plastic rose bush, that smells like perfection
and pleasure, mixed together, hot and heavy
-but it's all a collasal disaster, but i manage to master
the art of the broken heart, i've restablished
what it feels like to steal from the memory of being
-in love