An Instrument That I Used to Play

I remember the feeling like yesterday,
When the deepest hatred began,
All talk no show, all lust no glow,
I guess you can call me a man.

I’d rather call you whatshername,
For I’d wish to forget you for good,
It’s too late for that, in which here you sat,
And created my adulthood.

You made it hard to forget you,
At least in the mind anyway,
Your deep green eyes, our open skies,
When you left me here a stray.

You can’t really call this resentment,
For I truly never regret,
It’s easier this way, it’s easier each day,
And soon I’d learn not to fret.

Oh nameless, dear nameless,
Why have I started this not calm,
For I take back my thousand wishes,
And regret asking you to prom.

Love is such a funny thing,
That often ends without laugh,
I wasted a year, and a lifetime unclear,
And remember our first photograph.

We have both broken our promises,
Like a vase brittle and frail,
Each drop is deadly, each chip is dreadly,
And the last one will suffice truly impaled.  

For I’ll always remember that smile,
That killed me with no teeth,
That wretched attitude, that lack of gratitude,
That once shook me deep underneath.

No I shan’t just stand here,
And express things just for the bad,
It broke my heart, the day we part,
And you left me heathered and sad.

Oh voiceless reason, damned faceless treason,
Of your nothingness in which you lay,
Naked by your irrationality,
Naked, scared, and lonely.
An instrument that I used to play.

It destroyed me all too much,
That you unraveled and in which you lied,
For you are the Ancient Mariner,
For I, the albatross who died.

It’s all really a funny thing,
In a not so humorous way,
For you’re not the one that’s laughing,
For you are the instrument I play.