Breaking Up: A Song

For anyone who dated someone for flannel, not the personality–here’s a wee poem. Ah, high school. We’ve grown up, no?

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We break up.

We break down.

We smash shit on the ground,

talk like we’ve been around

but we’ve always walked in line.

We act rash.

We talk smack.

‘Bitch why you do me like that?’

I never wanted to hurt you

but I’ll still dig deeper.

I’m sorry I’m not articulate

I hope you choke

on how you hate me for it.

And I’m sorry I’m the stuttering type.

Well, hey you spouting poetic prose, how’s this one for a line?

Fuck you.

I hate you.

You hate me.

And we’re okay, maybe.

I hope you drown and die

but I’m not sure why.

You’ve got friends.

I’ve got mine.

They think that we are both fine.

We can turn on the shine

when we don’t want to be seen.

I’m sorry I’m not articulate

but I hope you choke on how you hate me for it.

And I’m sorry I’m the stuttering type.

Well, hey you spouting poetic prose, how’s this one for a line?

Fuck you.

I wanted meaning

but I found demeaning phrases.

Wasted my youth in adolescent phases.

You were a fad

clad in that backwards hat.

You talked like that was that

in your trendy flannel plaid.

Well now, that trend’s gone my friend

along with your happy ending.

If there’s anything left defending

throw up your barriers.

You’re not what I thought you were.

So, again.

Fuck you.

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2 thoughts on “Breaking Up: A Song

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