Splitsville

It’s not you, it’s me.        
It’s my thirst to be free.        
       
My spirit calls out for more      
than what I’ve found behind this door.        
       
My loathing of such resolved containment,        
has matured with this arrangement.        
       
The exhilaration this began with,        
and which seemed was well established,        
       
has proven fleeting…counterfeit.        
The charm which once surrounded it        
       
has faded. It’s been abrogated.        
The source from whence ‘twas fabricated        
       
has so decreed. Are you hearing me?        
Don’t look at me so drearily!        
       
Like I said before, it isn’t you.        
This thing we had just wasn’t true.        
       
I thought in time I’d grow to love you.        
(I at least know to “dance with the one that brung you”)        
       
But such sacrifice doesn’t last forever,        
and I haven’t the will for such endeavors.        
       
You’re mad at me, yes, I can see it…        
your tears will only guarantee it.        
       
Stop. Now stop…stop crying please.        
[Sigh] It’s this type of thing that’s driving me...        
       
Now, never have I insinuated,        
that your tears are simulated,        
     
but, though undiscussed, I must admit,        
it’s something I’m disgusted with.        
      
Your attempts at shrewd manipulation,        
have not improved the situation.        
     
You’ve steered us, dear, from my resistance,
toward your fairy-tale existence,        
     
but there can be no happy ending.        
We cannot carry on pretending;     
     
you’re no princess, and I, no prince.        
Though you have yourself convinced,        
       
that ours is a match ‘twas made in heaven.        
The time has come to use discretion.      
       
To move on from this absurd concession.  
To wrest ourselves from this oppression.        
       
Now I’ve said it. The smoke’s left the stack.        
It’s out there and there’s no turning back.        
       
I’m taking my leave. I’m going. I’m gone.        
Don’t beg me to stay. I’m moving on.        
       
Let go of my arm. Move out of the way.        
It’s over. There’s nothing that you can say.        
       
I’ve given as much as I’m willing to give.        
I’ve been dying each day and it’s time that I live.        
       
Trust when I say you'll be fine without me.        
Should you be so inclined to doubt me,        
       
just remember how we started off,        
(your last indiscretion, [cough cough])        
       
Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone new.  
(Sadly for him...cause it’s not me, it’s you.)