The Archetype

The Archetype

Even if I had told you I love you now,
I would not even believe myself.
I will not believe a word not a single one.
Not even the fatal words that you say.

Not even when your kisses meant a lot
Like morning coffee or honest poetry
Not even when you do love me back.
Even if I had told you I love you now.

The room sits there in silence like them;
Like the years that raced through time
When you and I sailed off with ships
And found false homes in our dreams.

Were they real dreams, really?
I would not even believe myself.
Now that I have learned to give that up.
Because it was not a fairytale all along.

It was a legend that I tried so hard to live.
Even if I had told you I love you now,
It would not change the fact that I failed.
That we failed to make legends those years.

I will not believe a word not a single one.
Even if you convince me now how you
Actually want me, or how you love me.
My brokenness etched to me the truth.

That the hope for true love is covered
In words that are as sweet as your lust
For me; You are desperate for me. Sure.
I’m desperate to sense new horizons.

Oh but you are not new. You were the one.
Everything else started with you. History.
Not even the fatal words that you say
Would change how my story was written.

I would not even believe myself
If the so-called spark invite you inside me
The exact way I would paint it in my head.
You are a living archetype that I never had.

You exist as a model for the hopes that failed.
You are a living relic of my lost loves.
You embody the love that was never real.
You now want to take me back when.

And here I am in stern belief for change;
In the existence of rise and downfall
Most especially the beautiful fallout.
Trace the bed with maybe’s and what if’s.

But I can love you know if I want to.
Except I would not believe myself if I do.
Not even the fatal words I wish to hear
Would put me back together for I fear you.

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