I'm so down.
I don't understand
the means, the changes
of your countenance.
You hurt me.
Is it not enough
that my soul
tourtures me;
must you join it?
Last week I
swore you were
someone special, someone
with whom I would enjoy
learning and growing.
"fuck it."
That's apparently what
you've said to my
phone calls, my messages,
my pleads for just an
explanation.
