Dear you,
I’ve already read that letter about her and it was addressed the same as this. 
It was about the same time I pissed all over this missed connection that was us. 
You took my trust
It was me lusting over something that equated to the nothing-ness of….

Well, I can’t say that I’ve felt this before
And why do I keep pounding on your door?
Why do I suffocate myself with your belt?
And the broken branches that portray you and the way I felt

So, it’s Tuesday now
And you’re so profound
You’ve found a way to etch yourself into some sort of higher ground
Well, I’m not going to lift you this time
You’ve practically broken my rhyme
Shattered every inch of what I had to give and want to throw it back to a wolf that won’t chew?

I wish it was still me and you.
In the park at dawn
Looking onto something beautiful
You were so beautiful
When I gave you that ring
I wish it still meant something
I wish I could taste your lips and still shake your hips.

Dear you,
When will I be done?
I’m tired of laying here thinking of how the binding broke on our book.
Glues not going to fix it
And it’s you who’s going to miss this.