Getting brushed aside was nothing new for me,
and it felt the same it always did,
like a knife,
like a bad drink being stirred restlessly and without end,
and it felt like you had no interest in the end game,
in my welfare,
in anything other than what was in your perennial orbit,
and that was boring,
you,
you were boring,
and shame on me for taking so long to figure that out,
in some ways,
that made me as pedestrian as you,
and I didn't like that,
not one bit,
in fact,
I was disappointed in myself,
so I buried all of it,
and took out the trash,
out of here,
and on in to seventeen---
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