"Damn'it," or, "Thank You For This Day."

Lover, I broke your door.
What did you want it for?
Now splintered and pattern-free,
It resembles that part of me,
With those tanlines and symmetry,
That you looked on repeatedly,
In your quest to find more -for that girl you adore.
Lover, I broke your door.

The pieces stayed where they fell.
Evenly on your shelves,
They took their place by themselves,
Each pile its own separate "Hell".
And that letter you wrote to me, describing our atrophy,
Well, they made that the centrepiece,
'Swear it had little to do with me.
I merely broke down your door.