I think that I am really over you.
Mostly because your name tasted like sin for about the past five years.
Meaning it felt terrible to say.

Really quite truely over you.
Mostly because the last time I ever saw you, you asked to have *** one least time.
I never thought that was selfish, in retrospect I was just vulnerable.

I really think that I’m quite over you.
Your face never really looked the same.
Your voice has faded from the hidden crevices of my concious and I don’t think about you much.

This thought had just crossed my mind.
Now I’m feeling kind of free.