Left alone with my thoughts
so I decided to strike up a conversation.
They said,
“He’d never write poetry for you,
he doesn’t even love you enough
to pick up the pen,
so why do you do it for him?
You're so busy trying
to put his puzzle together
you don’t even realize
the pieces that yours is missing.
If you’re on a treasure hunt for love
you should know that x's have deserted him,
just like the exes that deserted him.
He told you himself
you couldn’t make him happy
so why are you pouring sunshine on his grave
and complaining about the rain?”