Why?

Why are we doing this?

It's clear neither of us feel the same way. Everyday feels like a chore and you're the worst one of them all. It's like surprising your parents by taking out the trash but the bag rips half way to the front door. You're trash and I want to get rid of you. You were once amazing and tasteful but baby you've expired. Yet I still yearn for you, I wish I could taste you on my lips one last time. But it's time to pick a new piece of fruit.