poetry

Love was too messy for you.
It can't be categorized, you thought it could.
And when you failed, I was to blame.
So I'm gone and you won't get me back,
No matter how neat or systematic you are.
Your way was always the only way.
The summer grass greenly raging, always a specific height.
Your shirts in the closet, white with white, blue with blue,
And so on, shoes eternally shined.
You always covered your mouth when you yawn while I'm talking.

My English teacher particularly liked this poem. She said: "Been there, done that. You captured that so well. Perfectly gave me an image of someone who is checking out of a relationship, and not really paying attention. Instead, they're checking off items on a list, reasons that it wouldn't work out."