Here's a crappy little poem I did after my girlfriend left me. This is fiction, however. I'm not that emo. Just today.

That little scar on my thumb.
How long have I known it?
It's been 3 years, 262 days.
Do you remember that day?
You told me you were leaving.
I was cooking a dinner, a dinner for us.
We could eat it as we talked.
About what, wouldn't matter.
You told me you were leaving.
I was shocked, it was so abrubt.
Burnt my thumb, it stung for awhile.
But you weren't kidding.
You told me you were leaving.
That little burn didn't heal.
Not very well, anyway.
Neither did my brain.
After you told me you were leaving.
So now you're gone.
But the little scar on my thumb isn't.
So I couldn't forget you.
Even if I really wanted to.

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