I would love to say something generic,
Something not too traumatic,
Nothing too dramatic,
But I want you to get this clear,
It’s not me,
It’s definitely you.
Definitively and exceptionally,
The cause of the ending of our hostage situation.
That’s what it was, right?
Me and you stuck together in the same bed at night?
Me wishing you weren’t in it,
and you hating the commitment?
At this point I’m glad to declare I’ve cured my Stockholm’s,
I mailed your shit back home,
To your mother,
In hopes that she can fill the gaps she left out in the raising of you.
John, I would like to thank you.
May the next one be the kind you deserve,
Hope she holds all the lethargy in reserve,
So she can give as good as the little she will get.
I hope she lives up to all your expectations,
and has none of you,
As that would be a lesson well learned in futility,
How ironic it would be,
John, Please and thank you for my house keys,
No matter that I have changed the locks,
I have no more need for sporadic visits with your cock,
It wasn’t worth the wait after I lost heat with you anyhow.
And make no mistake,
There’s no he, him, them, they, or even her.
I prefer the silence to the sound of your breathing,
Alone-ness to the sound of your heart beating,
never again to the drone of your conversation,
To be free of the consternation of your aura.
John perhaps once I loved you,
before ego made a fool of me,
and an ex of you.
Good bye and Good riddance.