they frown upon cryin over spilt milk,
this is more like spilt wine
aged with time
and my whine
has the right to shine,
aged for 4 years
and gone in an instant?
yeah,
bring on da tears.
cuz four years worth
of moldin
holdin
chillin
now it’s spillin?
turn on the waterworks,
the drops are willin,
blurring hindsight vision,
nostalgia not my mission
but a given,
alive
but not livin,
movie-reelin thru memories,
dramas and comedies,
and feelin salty
like buttered fingertips,
so I sit,
and ingest the consequences
of our decision
to split,
to fit
individual ideals
of a life
well spent.
still hell bent
on findin the prototype
tryin not to fall for da hype
but we gotta suit ourselves
cuz a slight hell will prevail
if together we continue
to dwell.
so farewell just-a-friend,
bitin tongue
cuz I wanna be more than,
cuz chemists couldn’t formulate
compounds as cohesive as when
you took my happiness by the horns
and gently
rubbed it in,
my salve for emotional wounds,
no longer there
so witness my dry eyes’ typhoons
in blank stares.