The Break-Up

I miss the way you’d get my heart going, the way you’d make it skip a beat,

The way I wouldn’t even cared if I died with you, dying so happy wouldn’t at all be defeat...

I almost wanted to die, I always to go out on top.

When these thoughts came to mind, I thought I’d never be able to stop

And if I ever stopped loving you, I thought it would be your decision,

But it was mine, it was my last cut; I made the very last excision.

I miss you,

I hope you miss me too.

 

I miss that classy white girl more than all the other girls combined

You gave me something to work for, a reason to rise and grind.

After we intertwined, we would always fight and you would cause yet another nosebleed,

But it’s worth it, I think it’s the hate, not the love, that I really most need,

It’s the way you hit me, the way you made my heart race,

Just like the first time I met you, that numbing first taste

 

You were pricey, but I knew I wouldn’t want a cheaper kind,

I knew I wouldn’t be truly happy without your sort of find.

But I never was truly happy with you,

It would be euphoria with you, but only a short lived view.

I admit it, most the time, I had you on my arm just to flaunt;

I still wonder if it was you I truly did want

I used you to gain a crew and even used you to get girls

I used you for love, in all forms: the hard shit and the twirls.

What’d you expect? The first time we met was in a fucking three-way,

I knew since that day, I could never look at you the same.

 

Even though I understand the sunshine of your love ain’t worth the aftermath rain,

I still get happy when somebody whispers your name: Cocaine.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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