You could have called
Shipped the message in a bottle
Give me a sigh, a groan
Throw me a bone
A simple note on the fridge
That you've sold the Brooklyn Bridge

Just some soap scum
A trail of crumbs
Instead down the road
Make me solve this Davinci code
All puzzled over
About being together

Forgetting to clue
That we are through
With no late night blog
Left me a whipped dog
Wagging my tail
Not even a snail mail

There standing aghast
Awaiting a broadcast
Maybe a press release
Some sort of a notice
Doesn't have to be snap chat
But take it out from under the mat

What should happened next
Without a text
Is me in the cart
Of a broken heart
With thoughts I can't shun
Delivered by carrier pigeons

As things go
Getting this memo
With the face of a wet weekend
Still lying to my friends
Telling I am fine we're done
When I can't move on