One day, years from now, you will be lying alone wondering what went wrong and I hope I cross your mind and you think “Man.. I fucked up.. she really loved me.. she was worth something and I broke her.”
Tell me about your first love.
Tell me how she held her cigarettes
between her finger and her thumb,
and how she made you
pour your heart out to her on a stranger’s bed
after sharing a bottle of vodka that burnt
the back of your throat.
Describe how your name sounded
when it rolled off her tongue,
and how the sunlight
picked out the copper in her hair
just as the moonlight
illuminated the blue of her eyes.
Remember how she used to call you
at 2AM when she missed the sound of your voice
and how she stormed out
at 4PM when she decided she’d heard it too much,
and don’t forget her favourite song
and the way she looked when she tried not to smile
at something stupid you’d said.
Tell me about your first love,
then tell me how you broke her heart.