You arrive and ask me
If I'm doing fine;
You turn to me, again,
As if your abrupt absence
Wasn't mourned for
Or even profoundly felt;
You appear and demand
That, once again,
I be your little friend;
Yet, all that inundates me
Is the fact that you left
And demolished me,
Way back when I loved you
To the deepest desert
Of hellish hell.
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