this is not a love story.

this is a broken wine bottle and dripping red on counter tops,
different sized socks scattered on the floor
and left over tears still
longing to dry.

this is me telling you the history of us;
10 fingers, 10 toes
curled up limbs and
fogged up windows.

3am and I try not to miss you.

3am, I am sorry that monsters don’t write love stories,

they write eulogies.

Author: meredithlmm

Entrepreneur • Writer • Poet • Lover of Great Wine, Food, Cocktails, & Brewed Beverages • My best friends are feline 🐈🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛ View all posts by meredithlmm