shlaghaborah-blog

[shlaghaborah-blog]

The way we milennials love

P for Paranoia. P for Pepperoni.

Both requirements for a late supper.

On good days, my insomnia takes a walk, reads the newspaper,

And on the worst of them, gulps down sleeping pills like candies. We don’t hold hands anymore,

But we let our fingers talk when our mouths won’t.

We can’t distinguish breaths anymore,

Perhaps we’re all dying a little,

And last I heard, all corpses smell the same. Perfect by Ed Sheeran plays on, but we don’t dance to it,

Because our lives are more Gloomy Sunday than It’s a Beautiful Day,

Or so we believe.

So we brood,

And make pancakes at home on Sundays

When we should be running through the empty streets. We can’t stand romance,

But romanticise heartbreak.

Sexts over letters.

Although love, and loving comes to us as easily

as tan lines after a Greek vacation. We fall out of love as easily

As we fall into it.

We’re the milennials and our love stories

Resemble the saddest of poems.