The Timeless Art of an Emotional Breakdown

Spending my Sundays hunched over a cold cup of coffee
I can still taste the bitter second hand smoke
from her soft kisses, the elegant sentiments that broke me
I wonder if she’ll call me today but I know it will never happen

I curse the sunlight and its golden promises
I want those moments in the silent darkness again
When I believed her lies and accepted them as gospel truth
with the temptations I can see are going to be the death of me

She always saw straight through me but she did nothing
to curb my pernicious self deprecation
Today, I won’t be recognised
Tomorrow, she’ll forget about me altogether

I’m running out of patience again
but I won’t refuse even the lackadaisical of greetings
There’s not much I can say without repeating myself
So I’ll just welcome the day with the same old words

I guess I wasn’t good enough after all

The End

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