Because our half-lived love story is killing me

Filthy, sleazy, destructive

Often in cheap motel rooms

That's where we made out

That's where our love bloomed

We were young and foolish

But hell no! we were not plain

We could only afford rum and coke

With lust pumped up in our veins

'Fire and ice' is too posh

Romeo and Juliet too lame

You were a grenade

I could put category 5 hurricane to shame

It was a slaughterhouse

Of innocence, promises and dreams

At 21 and 23

We were two extremes

But we did love

With our heart, body and soul

Whatever we thought love was

It was out of our control

Sometimes I think

If I could relive my past

I could hold you for 1 more hug

I could make it last

Do you think that too?

Or was I a mere 20-something blunder

Have you dined at our favourite restaurant?

How long you kept my number?

You run a marathon in my mind

I think of you more than I should

I wish I could clarify

What you misunderstood

Leave you a note

Or shall I pick up the phone and call?

Because our half-lived love story

Is killing me -- that's all

P. S. Unedited poem. And this is all I could write on Valentine's. I can’t present a sugar-coated version of romance.