When he told me that he no longer loved me,
I wanted to ask him when exactly did it happen.
On which day and at what time and in which city did he know that?
What was the latitude and the longitude?
Was the wind blowing north-east or south-west?
I wanted to know when exactly did it happen.
Did his stomach drop or his heart sink?
Or did love just pop out of his brain's cortex and march unabashedly through the front door?
Did he wake up that morning feeling slightly nauseous?
Did a bad cup of filtered coffee juice down his throat?
Were those coffee beans aggressively conspiring against me?
Or did the elevator not work that afternoon?
Did he reach work and find a yellow post-it that said,"PS:you dont love her anymore"
Or was it printed on his company's letterhead rolled away neatly,tucked underneath his red diary?
Did the air smell of green apples that night? Did he drive drive,drive as fast as he possibly could?
Did his car float on the clouds? Did he instagram the damned sky?
Where is that fucking picture?
Did he stumbled through his front door?
Did he find my face peering through his carpets?
Did he find me in the whisks of 99.9% fat-free ice cream?
Did he eat that ice cream?
Did he use the dessert spoon?
But when he actually told me,
That he no longer loved me.
All I said to him was,
"Fuck that shit"