It wouldn’t be the first and it wouldn’t be the last.
She would toss and turn in the night,
her mind assaulted by her past.
Tremors and mumblings she constantly restrained,
her heart and soul still in shock from the pain.
It wouldn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last,
where romance would enter slowly
and die so fast.
She was a stranger to reciprocal affections.
She was always privy to her emotional defections.
It wouldn’t be the first and wouldn’t be the last.
So many would leave and she would wait behind,
Feeling so deeply she was her own anchor.
The first to give and the first to die.
It wouldn’t be the first and wouldn’t be the last