I guess I feel the need to linguistically,
like poetry,
express everything that's wrong with me
emotionally,
and I guess that ironically,
canonically,
almost comically,
that led to my downfall in all honesty...

I promise me
we're meant to be,
cosmically,
and things change allegedly,
but it seems to me
you swore to me
you'd let it be,
and truthfully,
the way you did that was painfully,
unchangeably,
not how I meant it to be...

And all of that won't change, you see,
that I love you unequivocally,
in a way most strangely,
and unmistakeably
the joy in me,
and the suffering
you're causing me...

I regret my attempt to anonymously,
incriminatingly,
express my need
in light of the unexplainably
vivid heartache it's caused me,
But who's to pay the price but me?
Who but I is eligible, conveniently?
To be,
Accidentally,
The ****
to your Germany?