Breakup Poem by Mark Heathcote

Listen to the angry thunder the hole in your head
That's sunk your heart like a bullet made of lead
Hitting its target, right where it's dented and dead.

Listen, emergency sirens are wailing in your head
But I'm never running errands or turning infrared.
Turning nasty-although-we've reached a watershed.

There's something about you makes me feel misled
Watching you put it all on show, like Santa's sled.
You're beauties unparalleled but I'm better off dead.

I should listen to my gut, forget about any regret
I've flunked every class I've ever sat and assayed
I'm so tired of being left hanging like a thread.

Whatever has gone on between us has been said
I no longer desire to move backward or ahead
From this point-on we're no longer enmeshed.