kinda tragic

well they do say third time’s a charm
you fulfilled the brief, what’s your mother like?
you are a kind of word that stays on my tongue
a sort of, cliffhanger?

— kinda tragic man,
your bones are rotting fruit
your heart’s a bag of brittle
you’re overcooked

sometimes i think hard about your excuses
the way they multiply like cancer
oh i couldn’t be here to do this
                i won’t be there to do that

i’m not bitter;
just pensive about the fact you haven’t shaved in weeks.
i used to marry us two together and forge rings in my mouth,
our wedding date clashed with your appointment at the barber’s

sometimes i think hard about your poorly face
how desperate i was to leave
and how you stained my sheets with cheats
god give me strength

it’s kinda tragic
that being happy now means i write less
it’s kinda tragic
that we moved the fuck on.

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