Change the Subject

I wish I could go back and see you for the first time.

See your shining, glimmering face, the face I fell in love with.

The man I see now is the man that told me to “ Change the subject “ when I cried out “ I LOVE YOU.”

I don’t see the “ good times “ anymore.

I see the criminal you truly are.

“ Young, rebellious love “ was not that. It was “ Underage, Lolita evaluation. “

My first love was not you, but my second.

Everyone goes through stages of “ Love “.

The “ first love “ is the love that happens at a young age. The one that has you end the “ relationship “ over pettiness.

The love you don’t think was “ love “.

Second love is the hardest, the one that makes you sit in the bathroom shower for three hours thinking “ what could I have done to not lose you?” Crying out to god “ PLEASE END ME “.

This love contains pain, lies, betrayal, abuse, drama and damage. You ... you are the abuse.

You took my innocence away two weeks before a special day.

This is the love after we stop crying every night about we look back at realize we now know the difference between good and bad, justice and unjustice.

The one we close ourselves off and resign.

The last but certainly not least love is the “ Third love “

The love that is blind, the one you don’t see, the one that is silent, the one you don’t expect.

All of the walls you put up are now down, the one you don’t mean to care about but somehow end up falling in love. The one that doesn’t look like “ your type “.

The one you get lost in their eyes and thank the universe for.

The one that makes number two look like a grain of salt.

But that grain of salt still taste so flavorful just like the first time you tasted it.

You still haunt me, I still see you in my dreams, Two.

Change the subject.