"You had your chance gorgeous.
And you lost it"
Is what I'd like to say. Nonchalantly, even.
But I sit here writing bad bad bad
That doesn't really qualify, but I'll call it that because I'm vain
With one eye on the horizon
And the other cocked
On this dumb ether-page
Breaking lines and words at random will [in the glorious name of Love]
Like a sentimental senile farting horse.
While you're probably a million memories ahead
Well beyond the horizon
Far into somewhere much better.
And just when you thought it was over
[Not that you'll ever read this
Much less think about it
But being The Poet and all
With the license to do such things]
I have a few more words yet
To spend recklessly
And artlessly upon you.
You're probably better off, wherever you are
Kissing, embracing, warming [take your fickle fancy's pick]
A more worthy throat
Beloved heart breaker
My dear gorgeous little lost red scarf.