I was talking to your ex the other day

okay

let's be real here

she's not really

your ex,

persay,

and you never really,

well,

met her,

but for your sake,

I'll call her your ex.

She told me that you scared her,

not creepy clown scared,

more or less

creepy-stalker-boy scared

so she blocked you

on everything

because romance by suffocation

wasn't really her thing,

I guess.

& after crying for hours

over a girl who

I'll remind you again

you had never met,

you showed me a poem you wrote.

At least,

that's what you called it,

and I'm all for artistic outlets,

but honestly,

your daddy issues are 

kind of boring

when you pair them with your idea

that the real victims here

are the nice guys like you

who get rejected for 

"just being friendly!"

I was talking to you yesterday,

and you told me you were ethereal

you said your rejection was due to

your life as a misunderstood artist

too poetic and deep

for earthly girls with standards like

privacy

or whatever,

you told me women always leave

and taste like bad espresso,

so when you tell me 

size 8 is ugly,

you're only leveling

the playing field.

Today, I talked to your ex,

your real ex this time,

and the only good thing

she could say about you

was that you sure put a lot

into your poetry.