Because I am trapped in my own cells, Blistered by the sun Of your kindle presence.
Yes, I blame you. I blame you For the roaches in my car And that time you made me bleed into my wine. I blame you for all the toast you burnt And the way you watch sunsets with Such impatience.
If you asked, I wouldn’t go back with you. My heart is already capable of Telling such tremendous tales.
I need none of yours. Get – be gone. Once a lover, but forever a wanderer.