Not a trace of you did I keep

Not a scrap to throw to the wind

Not a photograph, nor a letter

The flood has taken everything

Stains are all that’s left now

Just dirt-rings and dry-rot

The mess you’ve left behind

Fading over time

Your friends, they came and went

…mostly, they went

Weary of your echo-chamber acoustics

Your endless drone of self-indulgence and pride

Mixed with a pinch of self-loathing and depreciation

But never a single regret

No, not you

Even your shortcomings are planned and calculated

You’ve become so accustomed to failure, you can no longer count your own losses

And now my love for you is torn

And the heart around it no less worn

Did I need to split a vein to prove that I too bleed red?

If red be your color, I would’ve endlessly bled for you

Will I ever be a whole…