I won’t give up our secrets
until you’re cold
and I have stopped mourning you.
(or maybe before; how could I ever stop?)
Then
I’ll take out a 2 page ad
in the New York Times,
and tell the world.
I know you think I mean him,
stupidface,
(but it’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you)
but you’re the only one
who will hear
“Fuck Off”
and know that I mean it
(full of nostalgia)
in all the best of ways.
