The day I left you, I had my bags packed waiting for me at the door. Before I walked out, I wrote you the following note:
It isn’t that I don’t understand poetry,
But…it’s become your whole life. You breathe her, eat her, think her, sleep her. Shit if I let you, she could probably sleep with us.
You let her come in between something so graciously sacred, where did you pick up this behavior?
You say you could write me things that would probably make me swoon for you, but truth is I’m leaving because in this relationship there’s only room for two. I have been replaced by your new found love, Poetry.
Where did you meet her? What bar did you pick her up at? Did she fall for you because you told her you rap?
She must have seen that as her golden ticket into the great big world. Don’t you see? She’s only using you for what you have, meanwhile I was here when shit hit the fan.
I hope that when you’re laying in bed next to her at night, you see her sleeping in the spot that once outlined my body as you held me tight. I hope that vision makes you blind and you lose your love for poetry.
I hope she chokes you in your sleep
Because yes, as you said…you lost me.
But don’t think I don’t understand poetry
What I don’t get is why you chose her over me….