For there she came crawling back.
Apparently he’d had nothing to offer last year,
But now she was overlooking his “lack”.
He’d heard all about it at the time of the break:
His problems, his moods, his hair,
His faults great and small, his mind, his ambition.
You name it, his just wasn’t there.
She had stated she desired another man.
No one specific, just anyone not him.
He cried, he fought her, he begged, he pled,
And then decided it was nothing but a whim.
He told himself for weeks that she would return
And then they would continue as before.
But weeks became a month, a month became two,
And he fell into depression at month four.
Months five and six did nothing to ease
His miserable depressive attack.
And it was like suffering a second break-up
When month seven said “she ain’t coming back”.
Though nowhere near easy, he picked himself up
And then threw himself at work and a house.
He got two promotions and a log cabin to boot,
And was doing pretty good for a louse.
By month ten he was dating again,
And at eleven she was out of his mind.
Need her he didn’t, and miss her he wouldn’t
And it was all in his past and behind.
Well, hello month twelve, what have we here?
Her Highness is back, and on her knees?
Lonely and poor and unloved and sad,
And this time polite enough to say “please”.
He smiled big on the outside and bigger inside
Because he had not one drop of compassion.
This broken person that needed his love
Was to blame for his ten months of crashing.
No he did not want her! His life was amazing,
He had no reason to make a switch.
So he vented his venom and the nicest that he called her
Was a repulsive, disgusting, incurable….
itch.
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