and I am happy that you are happy

and I am happy

that you are happy

that I've even burned down 

every inch of your liveliness--

in these memories that I've drowned

and I smile at your new love

and wish you the best

because like her I know, that you are different from the rest

I'm over you now, so no one worries about me

because your existence becomes the stanzas in my burdened poetry. 

I do not want to despise, and I do not want to disdain

but how is a fisher supposed to feel gay about a fish he was not able to obtain?

To speak unpoetically-- my heart is just in pain. 

it remembers your voice, grace, and dark hair.

it remembers the day of that vulnerable red stare

it remember the cold, from the calm March night.

and the last time I felt reciprocation in sight

and now, I see no light

all I feel are needles

pinching at my face

the shameful dime of envy

leaves me with a bad taste

I caused this heartbreak. 

I illusioned myself with rigged thoughts. 

hoping I'd think of you less and less

but in all result

eith my hand in your vase trying to steal your heart

but you can't pick pocket a love that already been set apart

that wednesday night

that left me with fright

knowing subconsciously that this--

would be the last of your sight

the last of your eyes

how I wish I could turn back time

and prevent this demise. 

but alas, I digress.

so let me repeat

I think of you less and less

you don't invade my brain

and you don't take up my time

I don't think you're full of grace

and your eyes don't glisten..

they shine.