you told me to stop Writing abOut you
because all you ReaD was bitterneSs,
but who are you to Decide
what stOries are Not mine To teLl?
As if every Single syllable
uTtered from you lips isn't mine now.
did you think thAt i would forget?
or maybe you thought the wind
would pick up your wordS
and shuffle thEm awAy
like fall leaveS-
here tOday, but goNe tomorrow.