My infatuation meter is
on the fritz
It hasn't worked
since the reading of you
When I come in contact
with others,
no sort of result is
produced

The spark inside
has finally died,
and you're the one who drenched it
in crocodile tears -- claiming you're too weak
to face your fears...it's like looking
at a reflection of
myself this year...

We could have battled them all
      together
But instead we're settled to
     friends of fair-weather
I am the one who is suffering;
for
still today, you appear
                                      in my dreams

Decades from now,
I envision my
solitary conquest:
Success;
from recording my innards
I've always repressed
And of course,
an unfilled void, I fear not
to attest
All because that spark
inside me remained
unaddressed

But I have no more patience
or time to invest
in a folly; I'll rid
of my broken meter I
now detest
It died with you, now perhaps
your memory too
may be finally
laid to rest