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It isn't that I don't understand poetry, but it's become your whole life.
You breath her, eat her, think her, sleep her.
, if I let you, she could probably sleep with us.
You let her come in between something so graciously sacred, where'd you pick up this behavior?
You said you could write me things that would probably make me swoon for you, but truth is, I'm leaving because in this relationship, there's only room for two. I've been replaced by your new found love, poetry.
Where'd you meet her? What bar did you pick her up at? Did she fall for you because you told her you rap?
She must have seen that as her golden ticket into the great big world. Don't you see? She's only using you for what you have, meanwhile I was here, when hit the fan.
I hope that when you're laying in bed next to her at night, you see her laying in the spot that once outlined my body as you held me tight. I hope that vision makes you blind, and you lose your love for Poetry.
I hope she chokes you in your sleep,
because yes as you said, you lost me.
But don't think I don't understand Poetry.
What I don't get, is why you chose her, over me.
