Debris.

Her impatient, misspelt rhetoric

and the repose I never knew,

I'll straddle with purple prose,

of how I wish I still had you.

So subtly let these rhymes decide,

bickering almost never ceases,

I'll slowly make verse recite,

your whims and begone caprices.

 

The point at which you'd respond,

and that's when my blood'd thicken,

but this time, you carve unhurried,

an affection thats scattered in ruin.