One.
Hello.
I’m still in love
with you.
Please call me.
Two.
I’m completely convinced
that you don’t shower.
Like seriously, when
I talked about bars and happy hour,
I meant soap
And the glorious day
that your toenails are clean.
Three.
We were never meant
to be.
Your body was too
slippery for me to hold;
I did it anyway.
I’m still spitting
out the fellatio
And the regret.
Four.
I fell in love with
you
Like a ten-car
pile-up.
We were messy like
too much tequila
But you liked it that
way.
I wish I could say
the same.
Five.
You left me for a train
wreck in progress
And expected me to
swallow it like medicinal shrapnel.
No part of you was
good for me.
Six.
My favorite part of
you
Was your ears.
My mother tongue
could leave you so many shades
Of broken
You’d hallelujah all
the way to the night stand
And couldn’t sunrise
back up.
Seven.
I was charmed by your
accent.
I wish your face had
matched.
Eight.
You were my favorite
number.
But not my favorite
fuck.
Nine.
You didn’t know how
to use
All of your fingers.
I would lie and say
that it’s fine,
But I don’t have
enough Southern hospitality in me.
Ten.
Bless your heart.
Eleven.
They always said to
never stick it in crazy.
Thanks for doing it
anyway.
Twelve.
You helped me reach
new heights
And for that I am
grateful.
You are a peace
I cannot get anywhere
else.
Thirteen.
God, I wish I had
never met you.
Fourteen.
God, I wish I had
married you.
Fifteen.
I’m sorry I never
called you back.
I was too busy being
afraid to admit to us.
Sixteen.
For the last time,
I will not include
you in a threesome.
Someone once told me
To never stick it in
crazy.
Seventeen.
So,
Wanna be in a
threesome?
Eighteen.
Thanks for that story
I tell to warn girls
about letting boys
Bite their lips.
(You know what I’m
talking about.)
Nineteen.
I hate you.
I really, genuinely
hate you.
You’re so fucking
beautiful it makes me
Want to fuck you out
of existence.
Twenty.
I haven’t seen you
since second grade,
And I still want to
sneak behind the tree line
And give you a huge
Bouquet of onion
grass.
Twenty One.
I want to buy you
flowers.
And chocolates.
And a yacht.
Twenty Two.
Would it kill you
To buy me flowers?
They’re like five
fifty at Walmart!
Twenty Three.
It cost me too much
To wear my heart on
your sleeve.
Twenty Four.
I’m still waiting for
some of my things.
I’ve sent you my
address.
Twenty Five.
What is taking you so
long?
Twenty Six.
I have a greater
appreciation for patience now.
I learned how to love
you on the out breath.
Twenty Seven.
I know that you’re
married.
I just want to know
how married.
Twenty Eight.
If I could go on a
first date with your voice,
I would sweat like a
sumo wrestler
on top of Mount Vesuvius.
Twenty Nine.
We are so freaking
awesome
The world is filing
to sue us.
Thirty.
Remember that time
you ripped my pants off in gym class
And let the world
know that my balls hadn’t come in yet?
Thanks for that.
Thirty One.
You once told me
That you loved me for
how
Mousey I was.
You were too many
shades of
Closed-minded for my
stomach to harvest.
Thirty Two.
You said that I would
bring disgrace to your bloodline.
Challenge accepted.
Thirty Three.
Thank you for loving
me,
even when I do not
deserve it.
Thirty Four.
You asked me today
If I am happy.
The answer is
