I hope you haven’t been ghosted, too,
By the Host of all Ghosts
Professing but not Confessing
To be Who?
I already told you:
This is so painful and disdainful,
I hope I can choke to it and just get through it.
I can’t handle the Snapchat and Instagram fallout
Where the story is all about.
So I’m relying on texting
Which is bastante vexing
To send me puking
It’s long and it’s message is strong
Making me queasy and so uneasy.
So take a gummy to settle those tummies
For all who don’t care,
Ignore and never share.
However, the CREEP, was iffy, showing only giphys. These are a few of all 17, showing how in truth and trust I could never depend.
Yet I somehow trusted with more. Why? I don’t know: here are one or two (the only-ever shared) videos:
I also shared spontaneous poetry. Witness some penned by me:
He remained iffy with his giphys, but added deception to his crimes convincing me HE was KEANU the whole time!
Now Snapchat’s where the sex is at (but I won’t be sharing more, because I now feel like a whore). I should’ve listened to BeenVerified’s Advisory. It might have just advised me!
So I’ll conclude with a conclude I’ve already used to conclude and reconclude. Ghosting leaves no clues but damnation by eternal deja VU.
All I can say is he must have loved other things,
And never truly loved ME!
Why’d it take so long to
Clue it and screw it in
And finally get the news to ME?