When you wrote a short poem, you were in the mood for a quickie.
Meant you had no patience for me and didn't want my attention.
You got a short attention span, lack of patience and you hurl insults.
Wish you really loved me like I loved you, what you love is money.
Felt dead for years and missed the sweet you that went slow making love.
You lost interest when I lost my job for a few months, you hurled loser.
You did not want to be tied to a frigging loser, died inside dozens of times.
My heart ache was his gain, you met your lover boy in the stables.
Tried like hell to keep you happy, you did not want that from me.
You only wanted it from him, he had a good job but not like me.
I can't get back what I felt for you once you hurled insults at me.
You got dollar signs for eyes and money centered.