You walk away, I'll make sure I have the best seat in the empty house.

Best get used to staring

at their back, kid.

May as well throw

that wine glass

at the wall,

one is now enough,

somehow.

Hell, this bed is too big,

the sheets; too cold.

Still, I don't feel like crying

or writing a plethora

of emotive crap

that I will never have

the balls to send

to them.

Their back is enough,

after all,

once this is over

the next one

will probably look better

anyhow, kid.

The End

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