I'm "different now, an asshole," you informed me today
And yesterday, and on
Thursday, too.
I used to be so thoughtful, so caring.
Upon reflection, that's probably true.
I can blame it on the changing seasons
or even the changin' times
my bones grew colder as the trees got older;
But I had left you, once, during my "prime":
"Nothing was beautiful. Everything hurt."
I mumbled with a raspy voice
I was first and now I'm last
You told me it was my "choice"
I responded to you, "I don't know what that means,"
At once, you realized that was a lie
I knew you did, lover. Your face said it all.
So that day I left without saying goodbye.