She told me to write about love… …fine. … I gave up on you. I gave up on your testaments. I gave up on the way you said to hold on tight. You told me you would hold me like you used to. You told me you would scold me like you used to. Because I liked your attitude, Allegedly. … I would be taken aback When the sunflowers finally Noticed the rhythm in my strut When Mondays would pass by without a suicidal teardrop But still I Gave up on The endlessness Of you Striking these vindicated ivories To a song you didn’t want to hear You left me unspoken An empty chorus. Until I grabbed my pen… …to become the composer of my tomorrows. Without you. The Unnecessary. ©Tacito