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Thanks for the indifference,
anything else would make me cry.
My problems are my problems,
why should you even try.

Thanks for the nectar you spewed
like intoxicating wine.
The six that you drew on your palms
played a cruel joke on my nine.

Thanks for that tender feeling
you never intended to give.
Thanks for killing me softly,
the best chapter of life to live.

Thanks for sitting on the window pane,
letters braving patches of wet and dry.
Reason enough I could never accuse,
of you not seeing me cry.

Thanks for the indifference,
anything else would make me die.
My problems are my problems,
why should you even try.