Somehow I managed to let go of you.
You said you loved me deeply, but it was
not true, not true, not true, not true, not true.

The bees make sweets from pollens they accrue,
but I'm forgetting you with each day's buzz,
somehow. I managed to let go of you.

Regret's a dark, sweet nectar I fly through.
I'll make of it a honey labeled Was
Not True, Not True, Not True, Not True, Not True.

Let's inscribe those two words as a tattoo,
red inks indelible as my heart thaws.
Somehow I managed. To let go of you,

I'm pouring water on this crazy glue,
this airtight seal, whose lifetime guarantee's
not true. Not true, not true, not true, not true!

my heartbeat says. Oh fuck its point of view,
insistent muscle, pumping out red laws.
Somehow I managed to let go of you.
(Not true, not true, not true, not true, not true.)

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