You crop up sometimes
with a smirk
and a toss of those curls
(I wonder if you’ve kept them at all)

You had no right to promises
of bright future
and wedding rings;

nobody but me told you
you could do that.

I should have made you sign a waiver.

“I will not
take away your hope of love,
and leave you broken
for two years.”

“I will not
crop up in memory
and make you miss me,
as if I had been worth something.”

I met someone
who made me just as happy as you.

Why won’t you leave me alone now?

Why are you still here?

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