I'm obsessed with the mess from the bed
that you made when you stayed
even though
that you said that it was done
but it was lame and you were hungry
and the sheets lay a three-course meal
you don't want a date,
you'd rather wait until this June
because that is when your eighth dimension angels promised you
that they'd deliver someone better
perfect fit for you
no,
I'm not sad
hell if anything, I'm glad about it
I've been waking up each day in an anxious red flag
panic,
knowing that I'm not the one but not knowing just how to let you know
wanted you to leave, so
I'm working on my skill sets like I try on brand new clothes
saying I'm competitive each time that I oppose
and I suppose there is some truth there
and sometimes it's way too close to home
no, no,
I'm not sad hell if anything, I'm glad about it
I've been changing past replies to dictate future text tones,
sonnets,
knowing that I'm
not the one but not knowing just how to let you go