Blasé

“you’re too young

to be jaded by love.”

said she, twisting

imaginary wedding rings

on a broken finger

.

mustering an odd smile

weak and halfhearted

as the glittery ache behind

my eyes betrayed just

barely a glimpse of

.

the devotion i’m still

wasting myself on

of inked skin and shared

laughter, but only the

demons in my head hear

.

if only she knew. if only

you knew. if only i didn’t

know any better—then

perhaps i wouldn’t be old

enough to even start caring.

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