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I don't know who the ♥♥♥♥ you think you are, just up and friend requesting me like we never used to give each other reach arounds in the bathroom stall during Ms. Petula's middle school chemistry class but you're not the one I fell in love with and you'll never be able to make up all those years when you never even said goodboy or sorry, you ain't him no more, Jack, you ain't that boy who's hair smelled of sandalwood and sawdust, you ain't them tragic, alone eyes that used to peer back at me when we laid down in the fields and whisper to the wind. But most importantly you ain't that boy who'd fist a man's butthole with the intensity of a mother on Thanksgiving stuffing a turkey. You ain't the one I loved who left me behind