Sanskrit
I threw away all your clothes,
trashed your letters and flowers,
silly love notes and such.
I gave away that bear you won me
I couldn’t stand looking at it’s face,
it guilt-tripped me.
I can’t believe your nerve, I can’t even think about it.
So I’ll write Sanskrit on my body
with your old calligraphy pen,
and I’ll never record it anywhere else
so it’ll all wash away in the water
and my genius will be lost to the world.
It’s all your fault.
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