Hardly Sporting

I thought I knew what I was doing as I held your hand and told you that you were special. I thought I knew what I was doing when I spent so many nights gazing into your eyes and being entraced by your smile. I thought I knew what you were thinking as I was thinking that this was was going to last. It's hardly sporting that you didn't tell me what I told you. It's hardly sporting that you can change your mind about what I cannot. That I love you and you made me love you. And just like that I wake up alone and cold wondering what the fuck I was doing. Knowing that I had no idea what I was doing.

Waking up alone makes life hardly worth living.

Going to bed with you was all that kept me moving.

I'm frozen, broken , burnt and ash in your breath.

I'd like to write a word that didn't rhyme with death.

It's hardly sporting that you hit me from behind and expected me to ignore the blow. And, what was it again that I did besides treat you right? Is it you and not me? How tired is that tripe?