It's Not Like I Can't Write Love Poems

 

It’s not like I can’t write love poems.

I once fell for a lady; 

She said, "Don’t give me flowers, no chocolate bars on periods, no surprise dates; Give me your Spotify password.”

And I swear, that’s when I knew this heartbreak would come with a playlist... not the reggae kind of playlist; it's the Ed Sheeran and Lewis Capaldi kind of playlist with the title, " Late Night Songs To Cry To!"

She moved into my apartment without ever asking.

Started with my toothbrush, then my hoodie, a few of my boxers,  then before I knew it, my entire left side of the bed was hers. 

She called me “poet” like it was both a compliment

and a warning.

She once said, “Don’t write me into your poems unless you’re ready to edit me out later.” I felt that.

That was... scary.

We danced in the kitchen, her in socks, me covered in lust, naked.

She’d burn toast and call it “texture.”

I’d overthink simple hugs and call it “love”

It was perversion.

But love?

Ooh our love was loud.

We argued about movies we hadn’t seen,

she cried over memories we hadn’t made.

Still, she kissed me like punctuation.

Every time I got lost in thought, she found the exact words to bring me back.

And somehow, someway it always ended with us naked on the couch. 

Then one morning, she left (just like that).

Took the hoodie, left the toothbrush.

And the playlist?

Yeah. She changed my Spotify password.

So no, it’s not like I can’t write love poems.

It’s just that...

the last one I wrote logged me out before I could hit play. 

© amimoh_ombogo