To My Ex

To My Ex short poem

Photo by B Rosen


I thought I would be.
One breakup and days later,
I strongly disagreed.

To cleanse myself off you,
First I cursed you day and night.
Proved the theory within a week,
That out of sight is actually out of mind.

What was left of you after,
I stuffed it in a cardboard box.
No, I didn’t burn you silly,
I sold all those things in a pawn shop.

I earned enough bucks and enough wisdom,
To not waste myself over one guy.
I kissed my future ever so tight,
And bid your memories a silent goodbye.

Still I feel I owe you,
For one blessing you gave me.
My life is much better without you,

My two pence in return,
Never make promises you can’t keep.
Women label men like you as –

Your Ex and a Super-girl

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "To My Ex"

Notify of
Sort by:   newest | oldest

A poem filled with grit and courage to move on rather than hold on to pain…Nicely penned:)


My Only Friend

My Only Friend short poem

Am I Alive, or am I dead? Is this all just a dream inside my head? I feel like I’m losing my grip. Quick say something, anything before I slip. Nightmares slowly creeping. Has he finally come to do the

From My Journals ‘love’

From My Journals love short poem

The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half

My Friend Crystal

My Friend Crystal long poem

I am the women that hasn’t been able to lose all her baby weight. I am the dad that works two jobs and always gets home late. I am the high school cheerleader trying to be someone shes not. I

From My Journals ‘anxiety’

From My Journals anxiety prose poem

The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain

From My Journals ‘cinnamon’

From My Journals cinnamon prose poem

He saw things in a way that others did not, he was the only one that saw my dreams differently, I became beautiful with the light of his smiling eyes. There my soul drifted render in angle to give the