You were the man out of place,
out of time and stuck in a situation
you had no control over.
You used to be the shining armor-clad
knight I craved while masquerading
as the same thing.
We were fast friends. You taught
me about chivalry and how to
be an old-fashioned romantic.
How to write serenades and
the way to win a woman’s heart
while all I longed for was to
learn a way to win yours.
But you stuck to your guns and
chose to make girls swoon. I made
it a competition and you always won
because my efforts were always
half-hearted. Before long I started winning
and wondered if you’d had a
change of heart.
You told me that your heart swayed
both ways and mine began beating
faster out of pure, naive hope.
Still, you stuck to your guns because
that’s how you were brought up
and I watched you sing so many
love songs with a sad smile on your
lips because you knew you’d changed
each “him” to a “her” and “he”
to “she” just for the sake of
keeping up appearances.
I watched as the shine in your armor
dulled and the sweet words you used
to write became a bitter taste
in your mouth and you lost all
belief in them. Now you never bother
with poetry or serenades because
you chose to change names each
time it didn’t work out with one
of so many girls.
You never tried to change your
tune completely and the song
played out as the same way
it always does, fading