What, what, what
The sound of a clatter.
Chained to a memory.
An entity, dark matter.
A person, a being.
I’d like to forget.
I gave you fifteen minutes.
You have none left.
You always disregard my feelings.
And show only disrespect.
Before I couldn’t cut you out.
But I’m starting to believe now I can.
Deface the stills you’re in.
Delete the videos in which you star.
Trash the mementos you bought.
The rest goes out the front door.
I don’t want to hate you.
Admittedly, it wouldn’t be hard.
Negative thoughts are a part of me.
That’s just who you are.
I’ll rid you from my thoughts.
Alcohol helps in that regard.
The more that I drink.
The less I remember who you are.

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