For the love of god,
Whatever you do,
Please do not tell me its over surrounded by beauty,
Don’t look at your feet and recite the reasons of how I single handedly set flame to a tissue promise next to wisterias and children pretending to be adults in monogamous relationships in the shining plastic utopia of the jungle gym,
Don’t make ambiguous promises of friendship beside the park trees baring the survivors of old age, leathery bark a forever tribute to the romance shared between A.F and E.R,
Write me a breakup letter in your spidery heavy-handed penmanship and put it in your mailbox until time takes it to me,
I want to see a struggle on the page, the jagged flow of thought, and the start and stop spontaneity of your pencil,
I want to see the phantom letters of the word love after you obliterated it from the page with your eraser and hastily wrote the word like over it,
Burying it beneath the loose soil of a lie,
Anyone can write a love letter, the pinnacle of romance requires the least amount of thought,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Why do you make me hate you?,
Shall I compare thee to a bitter ravaging storm?
Thou is far more terrible and frigid,
The cruel bastards who created language must have loved irony,
Because words that have simple meanings like aggrandizement or bifurcate,
Stumble out of your lips gracefully and take time to be heard,
When Love and Hate contain only four letters but each have a vast plethora of different meanings, not one word is the same to another but it’s expected to be universally understood as if an orchestra sounds only a single note,
You know it when you feel it, and in some cases words fail you,
I never hated you,
I never loved you,
You felt both and that’s why I want you to contend when you write my break up letter,
So maybe you will understand, that I, much like words, can fail you.