Sorry, the person you're trying to call has moved on.
After spending days crying,
Waiting for you to return,
Huddled in your sweatshirt,
Rereading all past messages,
Gazing absent minded at the sky,
Recalling how you both had counted stars one night;
Finally, a year and 237 boxes of tissue paper later
She's moved on.
Sorry, but you're not welcome here anymore.
The door is shut,
She's shifted to LA,
Her number's changed.
She's over you,
A year after you said you were.
Don't try contacting her friends,
They haven't forgiven you
For breaking her again and again.
Sorry, but she doesn't need you anymore.
She's learnt to love herself,
She might not be able to trust anyone again,
But she's got her friends at her back.
She's ready to take chances,
Live again,
Feel again,
And maybe fall in love again.
Sorry, but your sorrys mean shit now.
Your belongings are in a box in the shed,
You can ask the neighbor for the key
And carry on with your own life.
P.S.: And maybe try not to hurt
The next girl you're gonna date?
~azmina
YOU ARE READING
Of Floating Buoys and Broken Bells
Poetry"Poetry flowed like little rivulets From the ocean that was her soul." ~azmina Our souls dance to the rhythm of poetry. A small collection of my poems that will, hopefully, provide the beats to your dance.
