Our dying love would not get better
You told me countless times
In days of old a Dear John letter
Would detail all my crimes
But these are surely not those days
No postman seals my fate
No scribbled thoughts of wayward ways
To chronicle your hate
No, now I find a cryptic tweet
No sad and troubled call
But worse is that I find defeat
Upon a facebook wall
Don't say who's next by way of text
That's not the way to go
Don't call me boob on you tube
I'm not a tv show
Oh, how I long for simpler times
Of breakups in iambic rhymes
Where love was lost more civilized
Not for those with prying eyes
I know I will not soon forget
Your lashing out at me
But why must one's I never met
See our dirty laundry
Privacy is all I ask
Not a breakup on the air
It would seem an easy task
Not to strip me bare
But there I am for all to see
Painted in the worst of tones
If only you had let it be
And just picked up a phone
I understand my many wrongs
Gave you reason to flog
But did it have to be in song
You posted on your blog
Oh, how I long for simpler times
Of breakups in iambic rhymes
Where love was lost more civilized
Not for those with prying eyes
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