It's been over a week
since you told me you love me
and you made me wish I
could fly halfway across the sky
to a rainbow-coloured fantasy land,
steal glimpses of the natural you
and wish we were all brand new
all over again.

It's been over a month
since I heard your voice,
and you told me a story
of another girl who stole your heart,
plastering it to her bedroom wall.
And whilst you painted that picture
of a beautiful love
and I, oh, shame on me, but
I wanted her to disappear.

It's been over a year
since you stepped in
and complicated my simple dream
of a simple life with a simple man.
Cause darling, you're anything but
and you throw me into different
places within spaces
of dreamy afternoons
and sophisticated evenings
that break into the late mornings.

It's been an age
of wanting you to be different;
a reciprocal sort of change from
my bitter past of holding onto
men who couldn't love me.
I should know better,
grow a little wiser,
but I'm throwing myself into
deeper waters
amidst darker self-made promises
of a love that's yet to come
and might never appear.