A Break Up

What happened to us?

To the consensual animosity

and very real possibility

that we were each

the worst people on the planet?

What happened to make me

care so little about

that high-pitched way you talk

or how your foot turns in

ever so slightly when you walk?

Tell me: what happened?

You seemed to have stopped caring

about my annoying habit

of twisting my hair around my finger

or how my breath always

smells slightly of coffee.

But that's fine, isn't it?

Because there are apparently

worse habits on this planet.

You seemed to have

packed up your bags,

moved on from mutual hate,

and, you know what?

I have too.

But I will always be bitter

that you beat me to it.