P.S. I love you still but I'm sure you don't feel the same way, do you?

Dear darling it's been almost three weeks
and thirteen days since I did the dishes
The sun is hot streaming in through the window
and dust is thick in the air and on the floor
I promise you I'd keep a cleaner house
if I just knew you'd be coming home

But the air is dry and hot
and the flowers are wilting
The yard is slowly turning brown
there's no motivation inside my head
The paint is peeling off the wall
strategies for dealing with life are surpassed
By my custom-built idea of living with it

So now crying is like breathing and sleeping to me
i do it all the time, sometimes not knowing why
And drinking, too, I do that a lot
i guess my intellectual aristocrasticity has decayed since you left
But for some reason I don't really mind
my moral superiority was just a stance
Taken by a child, from picture-book examples
i don't know if they were true
But I've never thought they were lies