I remember that night when you were drunk,
mumbling over and over again
about how you weren’t a good person.

We all laughed at such a thought
escaping your chapped lips.
I couldn’t fathom you in a bad light,
never mind knowing that’s
how you viewed yourself.

Cigarette ashes and cheap *****.
Those were the things we indulged in
two nights before you decided
you no longer cared about me.

Unfortunately, you were right about yourself.

You aren’t a good person,
because good people don’t shatter
and break other good people.
That would be bad karma.
And I hope that cycle envelops
your damaged and sorry soul.