I have to move on? My heart stares
at me in disbelief, shock formed in
an open jaw-dropping expression
of pure poetic PAIN.
Well I don't know how to do that,
my heart says with a blank stare.
Do I really have to keep on
keeping on and getting over you?
Yes? My heart doesn't know how to
do that. It just doesn't. That part of
life really hurts.
To my dog:
What about the part of "maybe one
day we can be friends"?
I really don't like those kinds of
I hate that I'm here feeling sad and
blue, and I'm thinking that you're
probably not thinking of me.
I guess it's a good thing that we
can't trust each other, because
otherwise I'd be calling you.