I’m not love material
My heart doesn’t conform
It does not comprehend
…..the emotion
It rejects, detests
It suspects…
This so called “love organ” of mine
Is broken, forsaken
it’s bells no longer chime.
Been there, done that
Not planning on going back
Trust me on this, it’s a fact
On repeating?
Only to get broken?
…shaken?
To malfunction
And fall apart…
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I love the fact that the person disregards their love being tangible and less abstract.