Our love is a cliche, fragments

of a romcom story.

When we glance at each other hallways

we do it in secret

denying our blushes to just

   reoccuring crushes.

But is it when we analyzing

when we're comparing each other bodies-

analyzing if we can complete each other hearts?

That we fool

And we kiss

And we break up

And this was just amiss

The ballad on the radio will played relentlessly for weeks

and the perfume and youyouyou leaks.

There is never second chances,

 because you're my past time.

Like those imagined crushes

I bet for a dime.