Blood butterfly

Pulled away from me,

Set free

from vascular bonds,

Bisected, dissected, gone.

She was ill.

Now I take a pill.

Sick to think

She was on the brink

Of madness.

I release her, old gland,

with gladness.

The breakup was hell.

Now, at last, I am well.

I can’t help but whisper,

“I hope I don’t miss her.”