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I've tasted sewage,
Dripping out of my mouth, these words, like garbage.
I see the photos you so kindly cut me out of.
Decades will pass, and you will miss those old reminders.
Yes, we were friends, yes, we are enemies.
But the good times still are concrete sidewalks of former streets on which we strolled.
You once were the most important thing to me,
But do I miss you? No.
I miss the old you, the you that was sweet and understanding.
Caterpillars change, I into a butterfly, you into a moth.
A sunny storm is still a storm no less.
I'll drink to metamorphosis, but it's too bubbly for my liking.
Bad choices and silken handkerchiefs will blow back in your face.
I choose to think of those concrete sidewalks as stepping stones.
Smiles are all I have to offer, don't accept them.
Currency of that kind was never appreciated by you.
And when you find yourself splashing in nothing but mud puddles,
Remember, it was you who made the rain pour.