Not Sorry, Sugar Pop.

I breathed in petals and
exhaled daisies that you
handed to other ladies that had
stars in their eyes.

You were never the key to my galaxy.
The universes painted on your hands
ended up being glow in the dark
stickers, you stupid country slicker.

Wolves dash down from those
constellations to have conversations
about how to howl. Any of their
plays are foul since their bays are
to tear open the sky. Fur will
fly when I sigh because there’s a
canine in my lungs trying
to be my cloud nine. I name it
after you, by the way.

But let’s just say, it’s not quite
there, so instead it tries to tear
at my chest, I’m impressed you
got so far being so subpar.

The wolf found that it’s sound does
not break the cage of my ribs. It’s
charades are fake, and my heart
isn’t at stake. It’s a prison, and
I won’t miss him. By him I mean
the one with it’s tail between legs.
We’re a ship that will no longer

Open letter to the one and true, fuck

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