I fucked you and you’re weren’t right for me.
*END OF STORY* (it should’ve been)
Fuck the awkward breakfasts
Fuck my confused room mates.
Fuck the abortion that could have been our son or daughter.
You weren’t right for me and I wasn’t right for you.
It’s not that easy though.
Spitting lies, spitting truth, spitting half truths, spitting half lies, spitting blood, trying to make sense of it all. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck us both.
I try not to mourn the life you snuffed out. I hope you’re happy now. I hope you’re better now. I hope you can wake up in the morning.
I’m drunk (again). I’m angry (still). I’m praying for peace of mind (always). I haven’t known it yet (it’s been a decade).
Congratulations. Fuck you. Congratulations. Fuck you. Congratulations. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Congratulations.