since we’ve been apart, I’ve fallen in love and wasted my time and gotten my heart broken again. every time you get your heart broken, you think - my heart is monkey meat. my heart is a pulpy mango. my heart is sore, thinking of you. every time my heart is broken, I miss all my ex-boyfriends together, (as few as they are) and I wish he was a part of my life, and I could still enjoy all of the great things he did for me. but not for a second do I think - oh, I’d like him back.