We'd often argue over the same things;
The same fight, the same guy.
My heart, my half, my whole.
Lost.

You'd whisper bitterly, how my heart was never yours
And yes, I'd tearfully admit,
Yes, it's not yours.
And over time we'd continue.

But what of the other half?
The other part, the other guy.
My heart, my half, my whole.
Here.

Tof, little did you know that I slipped it
In like a folded note,
Into the pocket of ur sleeve
When you weren't looking.