So?
What happens now?

All those songs you wrote
with strange words: fitting me
into your clockwork jewellery box performance,
stringing me along the necks
​of all your 2nd-hand guitars &
​tuning me to your dreams;

All those hours listening
​to you talk on & on about
​you defining me, dissecting, invading
my privacy, watching
you walk around & around,
​all about you leading the way
​to your (mirage) future.

So?
What happens now
that I'm not there anymore
​to nowhere with you?
​