I guess this counts as a goodbye?

He has his hands on my right arm,

And you on my left.

You both pull and pull

Until I rip in half.

My blood, guts and emotions

Splatter the floor.

You both scramble to gather

The remnants of my once vital organs.

He collects them in cheap plastic bags,

And you store them in your trench coat pockets.

You both wanted me,

He showed me,

You didn’t.

I wasn’t sure.

Now neither of you can have me,

And I’m splattered across an unswept floor.

You’re both bloodied and tired,

And I’m gone for good.