Glass is pretty when it’s broken
But boys are so much more delicious when they too
Are broken and left in the dust
With nothing to hold them together
But the strings attached to them
By lovers and flings alike.
And I will merely leave you swinging and swinging
Hanging by a thread
Before I let your hand go.
Crash, will you fall
Or thud, will you go?
I wait in anticipation of the sound of agonizing heartbreak
And bide my time.
Two seconds until launch.
Like presidents that know that they’ll be impeached,
I say “to hell with it,”
And let the storms rage on through the night.
What I hope to see
Is the fine pieces of a broken relationship littering
The empty left side of my bed
At seven in the morning.