break up poetry is fun.

Ok, well it's not fun so much as satisfying. Sorry if it's rude, but heck it's a better outlet than punching someone or robbing a service station right?

Goodbye, goodbye and goodbye.

And with that, goodbye.

To my first love

The one who held my heart

So gently, for a time.

And then dropped it off a precipice

Into a garden of thorny weeds

Surrounded by gnomes in pointy hats

Who stomped the shit out of it for a while.

Truthfully though, he didn’t do it because he was bored,

Or cruel,

But because he couldn’t hold it any better.

His hands were previously damaged,

In a Christmas sale or a bicycle accident.

Who the fuck knows.

But now goodbye. For the last time.

Not like the last, last time.

The friendship ship has sailed too, I fear.

A while ago, with the wind

which also caused the cascade of calls I made to go unanswered. Again.

Unfortunate, yes.

Reality, also.

I should have seen the latter a little earlier but,

I’ve been told that these things happen.