Poopy phone

I dropped my phone into the loo.

Beyond repair, all was lost.

Three years of photos, texts and memories;

the current latest message, pic and tune

sent from an ex in anger

on what I guess was one bad day.

Not even drunk, since I’m not drinking

because of issues with my heart,

from stress and worry for a year,

it’s even more annoying

to lose my phone, and lose my shit

as down the bowl it went.

And now to have to read

and see and hear and bear

the feelings, meanings, words and thoughts

of someone whom I used to love

but now will never have another message from.

I’d rather he went down a pipe of shit

than having to remind myself

of all the crap I left behind,

that now float back despite the flush

of therapy and work and rage.

My own annoying stupid fault

makes everything that bit worse.

But app by app and step by step

I breathe, download, and try again.

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