I promised myself that the last poem about Anthony was going to be the last one i wrote. you cant really ignore inspiration when it comes though, can you?
I have made many mistakes,
but nothing as big as you did,
promising everything, giving nothing,
now all my real feelings i hid,
I can't even tell you how I feel,
you never responded to the letter i wrote back,
can you imagine how that made me feel?
like all you wanted was to get me in the sack,
I felt like that a bit while we were dating,
I was your first,
I was your first drink,
now you probably have new thirst,
how come it had to turn out like this?
why are you putting me through so much pain?
I guess I'm not that worth it,
Dear Jane
