It’s done and I’m sad, but fine. Some say it’s not love. I say it’s savage.
I don’t want any part of what you’re offering. And that’s the best gift.
Yes, I loved you once and it’s wrong to compare, but he’s better than you.
I’ll never go back to being your joke now that I’m read like poetry.
I don’t even know the girl who once felt like shit being around you.
You used to intrigue me and catch my eye. Now you’re forgotten. Less than “some guy.”
Please do not come here after a bad night just to shit all over mine.