No excuses.

I tore up all our moments

and waited for that gust of hot wind to

blow them away.

Far away from me.

I wrote the lyrics of our wars

in chalk on the streets and waited

for the storm to

wash it off of me.

I set fire to all your reasons,

warmed my hands against the flames,

burning your words

that used to burn me.

I've buried my brittle bones
beneath the ruins of this city of ours,
six feet under exactly,
in the deep dark dirt.

There are no excuses this time round,
just what you did to me.