heroes gonna die

you tear through poems you wrote at the age of fifteen.
‘my one and only' 
you said.
‘my heart, my soul, my e v e r y t h i n g’
you said.
'love like foggy sunday mornings’
you said.
for a while you smile.
you smile until the sickly sweet of it
contorts your lips.
then it’s bodacious laughter,
you curling up at the foot of your bed,
realizing that you were never much of a poet.
just a girl who dabbled in the art
of feeling just a little too much.
so you laugh till your toes go numb.
and one day, you’re twenty years old,
the foggy sunday mornings feel
like fond memories tucked away, and
e v e r y t h i n g
stands still.
— e v e r y t h i n g |(morsus engel)|