Just as well that it ended, frankly.
Now you'll write poems about how
the world looks dark outside your window,
how black ink runs through blue veins
and you bleed it on every blank page.
I guess you're brave
to be so open.
I guess you're brave
to jump head-first into that abyss,
that hole in your heart.
It may be tough to hear, but
maybe your lover left because
they were tired of
"your eyes gleam like jewels in moonlight,"
how you "only long to hold them,"
how they "saved you from yourself."
Sometimes we just need to be ******
hard, primal, endlessly
when we get bored with making love.
Some things have been said too many times
to mean anything to us now.