Something That Feels Wrong

I've come to tell you about my terrible heartache. You know, don't you, that I can't write unless I'm in tremendous pain. Listen to a few words from your foolish ex, won't you stay a moment! Today's a holiday after all—what harm in spending a little time!

Where should I begin? Should I tell you about the wound first? Or the festering sore? Lovers speak only of love, kisses, tenderness and desire, but this stale ex's bag is loaded with stories of bitter anguish.

You know, even sweets taste so bitter to me these days—imagine what poison would taste like! Not that you'd need to know. Look, the day is ending, and I'm sinking with it. Look, look...can you see?

Everything feels the same to me now, day and night. Morning is no different from evening; night no different from dusk. I never imagined I could exhaust myself with such skill. Did you think I could?

Of course you did! You're the one who taught me this lesson, so surely you knew exactly when to strike while the iron was hot. I'll grant you that...but did it have to be red-hot iron? Couldn't you wait for the iron to cool down a little? You people are something else!