(This is a fictional poem) A couple of weeks ago my exgirlfriend had her stomach pumped. I accidentally served her some bad oysters and I got dumped. I didn't know the food had gone bad, I was only trying to serve her a meal. She wanted nothing else to do with me after she got ill. I still say that dumping me was superficial of her. If I live to be a hundred, I'll still love her. If she truly loved me, she would've been able to forgive. Now I'm doomed to be in misery for as long as I live.