There are many things I hate,
And this being one,
I hate when the words,
Slip off the tip of my tongue.

Why did they leave?
At exactly the wrong time,
And where are they going?
Those words were mine.

I find it very rude,
Leaving me like that,
No formal goodbye,
In the middle of my chat.

Now I am left,
In this sticky situation,
Thoughts become foreign,
I need a translation.

In a panic I am,
Thinking of something new,
Maybe I’ll bring this up!
Crap that’s gone too…