The last 3 letters of the spring

I say I have nothing to say, then I proceed…
saying
more
but as in
rage-cleaning my bathroom
at 2 am 
‘cause honey
I remember the things you did
and the things you didn’t

The story is as old as the world
the saddest ever
one-way ticket
I love you 
But It is not enough aka I wanna fuck my coworker 
we play tennis together you won't even say fuck out loud

Choose your words wisely
The pervading ones linger
like a german shepart guarding 
the sheepfold
and where is the soul in this mess of a friendship, my love?
A code word for losing feelings
as if feelings were ever a reliable standing point

I should find myself one of those
a nice guy or something—they say that’s the pick of manhood
It’s just
I am obsessive, compulsive, and crazy
In the older days, they were calling it love

How many more obviously depressing, obnoxiously picket white fences do I have to set on fire? 
As in rage-writing a novel about 
all the things you apparently never really wanted (thanks for the headsup)
but it’s ok, my darling
I am good at making up stories 
I know your intentions were good
and you’re FINE anyway
It’s just
I’ve been writing a novel about all the things you weren't ready for
It says I love you
like a million times
It lingers
It lingers