Sometimes I treated love like a spare tire

Instead of like the only tire

Patching it up, using fix a flat, removing nails

And anything else

Always trying to repair it in some kind of way

Love is like a cancer attacking my breastbone

Sore to the touch

Reoccurring, suffocating, treating

I have learned to enjoy my days without

Love….My late nites

Consist of watching the moon form

Light crystals over sidewalk pavements

Which I imagine are crystal blue lakes

I no longer drive to the nearest gas station

with a dollar in hand

To inflate my tire in preparation for the next day.