They all say the same cliché:
“It’s better to have loved than none at all.”
Our story had been short and not worth it,
yet I’ve been cursed with this ability;
this giant elephant memory.
Let’s be selective?
Some advice to give.
It’s been two years since you said you wanted to be
with no one else but me
until I realized I wasn’t the only.
Oh, I had never been.
The story didn’t just end there;
like some typical, cheesy rom-com plots
before the leading lady finally deserved
the prince charming she’d eventually get.
In this department, my storyline’s been bleak,
‘though I still refuse to let myself get weak.
You were the monster with a handsome mask.
That must’ve been an exhausting task.
I was glad the truth was finally out,
as you ran off, ghosted me like a coward.
It’s been a year since I heard my own version of happy-ending:
You’re finally in prison.
I felt so sorry about your youngest victims
who had probably known no concept of ‘consent’
when you chose to force her, leaving permanent scars.
I was off the hook;
probably the smallest casualty in your betrayal and wickedness,
but I guess I’m still dealing with my own hurt,
because the idea of starting over…
…is still as scary as the possibility…
…of facing another monster…
Our short, fabricated love story has never been worth remembering,
but I still can’t erase it – so it’s been permanently written,
a vivid reminder of my past failure
and why I glare at romance with cynicism…
(Jakarta, October 1, 2020)