This isn’t about moist napkins,

Nor is it about crumpled tissues.

This surely isn’t about empty whiskey bottles,

Neither is it about big ice cream tubs.

No, there was no animated fight,

Neither was there the feeling of revenge.

Yet a lot was there to end it all,

Some issues too big, others too small.

But this is not a remembrance of all that,

No, this is not a sob story.

Instead this is a thanks for everything good,

From care to love; from dates to food,

For the precious gifts, for your comforting hugs,

The melting smiles, and the warm palm rubs.

Your trust in me, the belief in us,

For your insecurities, and also your guts,

This is a gratitude for the time well spent,

For everything you gave me, for what it meant.

Time tore us apart, it isn’t in our hands,

But our story will be told, by footsteps on wet sand. 

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