I can write a book about how
apologetic am I,
But a stanza or two will do.
I know I always said I loved you too,
But every word I uttered was less than true.

Every good thing must come to an end,
To our fairytale, the fat bitch hit the
highest note.
Note, I can no longer be just a friend;
For poisonous butterflies to your
stomach I might resend.

You are everything a man can ever
want, but her;
So please forgive her not me,
For I don’t regret loving on permanent
Of course, there are great memories to
always cherish,
Even greener plants live on a dead
man’s grave,
For sometimes great things are born from ashes of the old!