I don’t know how to break up with you.
It is not because you are dumb or unpretty. It is not because you are smart or too pretty.
It is not because you are small-minded or mean-spirited.
It is not because you are visionary, expansive, or generous to a fault.
Neither your wit nor sarcasm
Or your insipid thoughts and barbs
Neither your dreams nor nightmares
Or your utter embrace of that which is average and mean
No, I don’t know how to break up with you because of who you are or who you are not.
I don’t know how because I have become indifferent–
To the sound of your voice.
The taste of your mouth.
The passing glance of your touch.
The weight of your gaze.
I am indifferent, so I know not how to hurt you, kindly, nor to be gentle with you, most painfully so. I don’t know what words matter to you, anymore, and I cannot find it within me to care.
I wish that we simply, magically, would just drift apart. You would embrace a future that suits you better; I would embrace the same for me.
And we would part, most peacefully, emptily, with neither hurt or heart, just–