His heart was stone but his hands were warm
And a false sense of security would soon arise
But a feeling, a premonition, plagued me
Still, I accepted his lies and ignored my mind.
When I woke up
I was disconcerted by the truth
And taken aback
By how much of me he had managed to steal
And there was not a person to blame but myself
What we had was a caricature
A parody of what love could be
And all that I can ascertain
From this failed bout of love,
From this relationship of only lust,
Is that this story is cliché
And it is on a constant loop for all of us
And we're stuck
Like a broken record player
We'll still approach love maladroitly
Until we'll learn that love has no boundaries
And we leave behind all senses of propriety,
And social acceptability