Hello to you again, my dear. Did you dreadfully miss the nights of wild forbidden promises we shared? Or the charms we stole from our hearts?
I know you missed me, for how could you not when I became the best lover you’ve had? You spoke of love. I speak now of hate and fate. Wow! They ****** rhyme!!
As you can see, or read as you will or are: sarcasm has replaced you in my bed.
I go to sleep dreaming up bitter words in which to throw at you when you come to me.
****, you won’t ever go away: Will you? No I suppose not. Well and so to you lover. I tip this glass of Absinthe and ***** to the pastoooooooooo. For everything you taught my body. All the ways you corrupted my mind. And to every day your hands touched and teased my skin.
God, did I love you? Yes, perhaps I did. Or as my friend, my only companion is whispering in my ear: “Lust won again, dear.”
Hopefully I’ll hear from you in another year. ****, did it again. ****** rhyme.
Reminds me of you. Perfect: Not again ooooooooooooo.
Silently screams, but not for you: and defiantly not because of you.
(Sarcasm is so much better than you.)
