Well, it’s your loss, then!
I mean… I get it.
It’s not me; it’s you.
I’ve heard it.
I understand. I know what you’re getting at.

But know this:
I was gonna bring pie.
I was gonna feed you.
I was going to satisfy cravings you hadn’t yet recognized.
I was gonna be ahead of the curve
providing sweetness you can’t even imagine.
I was gonna give you pie.

There were gonna be flowers
– but not roses!
Those cliched things?
I think not!
I was bring you a mixed bouquet
carefully selected to represent us
on each occasion.

There would have Hibiscuses and Hyacinths
in honor of your sincere beauty.
All that’s lost now.
No flowers for you.

The ways I was ready to worship
at your shrine
are washed away now.
I see what you’re about
and I’m ready to move on, too.

No jewelry,
no tours of the city
recalling the significance of everything we’d ever loved.
It’s over
before it began.

And – no,
Me? Crying? No.
Nothing like that.
I was just allergic to…
to the pie
or the flowers.
Or…
excuse me.