Dear Ms. Leading,

I regret to inform you I've fallen out of lust.
It must be so hard to understand.
Did you really think me a fool enough to play along?
And make believing everything you said was true
Push your pouting lips on other unsuspecting lovers

Love,
The Dear Hunter

1.25.2016

Application Implecation

Pieces of you line up in tiny profile photos, matched in an algorithm so precise, it took only a few clicks to create. He doesn't look like you, but he wears the same blue of your chosen profession, your passion, your at times obsession, the look on your face when a call is sent for "Fire." The next has a dog, a golden retriever, the best dog according to your humble opinion after owning a beautiful specimen of the breed, your address on his tags as if he has the permission I did not to belong in your heart. I swipe left to these men, over and over again and my thumb is growing stiff in the bent, carpal tunnel, text position, hovering over your name in my message history, as I could not and will not erase every part of an abridged relationship, the TL;DR that induced our friendship's coma. I swipe past the bassist, past the pop punk fan, past the PoliSci grad, past the man who resembled you enough for me to stop and stare... to fill the you-shaped hole you left when you ran towards the distance a la Wile E. Coyote, never looking back, but perhaps raising a "Yipes" sign as it lead you to a cliff.

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