49 Ways (to leave and be left)

Walk out on her.

Run far from her.

Slow-drift apart on your bed.

Stray away, stay away,

move too fast right away.

Slowly roll off of her bed.

Climb off her Vespa.

Climb out her window.

Leave her behind on the sidewalk.

Leave her on the roof

or in a bar.  Find your car.

Take the subway, take the MAX,

take the BART.

She threw you out.

She drove you home.

She ended it on the phone.

She traded up, quit you,

or packed you in.

She courtesy fucked you “so long!”

Gmail her, text her,

Facebook status her.

Write her a sorry Dear Jane.

Tell her you’re gay.

Tell her you’re straight.

Or honestly say she’s insane.

Cross the street or a bridge,

cross your arms and say nothing.

Wear a cross; you’re a new man of God.

Catch the elevator down.

Catch a rare new disease.

Or admit that your feelings are gone.

You broke her heart.

You broke her leg.

You pissed off her dad and large brother.

You used her, cursed at her,

were too much of a pushover.

You slept with her young single mother.

Move away.

Forget her day.

Lie to her from the start.

Forget to call.

But worst of all,

spend New Year’s Eve apart.

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