I have breakup at eight tonight
It's in my calendar. Look!
From eight to nine tonight: an appointment
With the title: "Breakup". That's what it says.
At eight tonight
Is when she will end it.

She didn't say as much but I already know
Why we're getting together earlier than usual
What we'll be doing and
How it's going to go down
Not a conversation
I'll just sit there
And let things run their course
Until, finally, I'm told
So I booked the time
With the status: "Busy"
Meetings are not my thing
And this one's no different.

One full hour. Just about forever!
Elon needs half of that to
Sack half of Twitter
Part of me wanted to tell her
Maybe a Zoom instead?
Or not do it at all since
We both know what will be happening
And, pretty much, what will be said.
Even breakups have their buzzwords:
"We can't continue"
"Special place in my heart"
"I'm sorry"
"Thank you for everything"
And such like
Dilbert doing dating. Haha!

Yet here I am, getting ready
I got a haircut, a close shave
A clean shirt, fresh clothes
And a good meal before
Rights of a man on his way to the gallows
The only change I made is
To not wear the fragrance I know she likes
When her face is lost in the crease of my neck
No point making our little chat
Harder than it needs to be.

The worst of it is that
She's gona need some help to
Relax into finishing with me
Or it will be the usual
Taking turns talking about our week
The sales targets she's not making
The crap we've been watching.
I'll wait for a longer pause
At which point I'll say:
"So, tell me... What is this big and difficult conversation you wanted us to have?"
Besotted, curious, full of naivety
Looking at her with eyes that don't know already
It will be the signal for her to start
Unravelling the agenda I know she has prepared
And rehearsed in her head a million times.

The saddest thing is that
I'm not gonna suffer
Part ways is a dire business
One I should be less used to
A soldier's death from a single clean cut
Is as good as it gets:
"it's over. I'm sorry."
No one dies, just love
Or the workings of it
It's quite alright. Life!

She botched it earlier
With all little hints and the little changes
In her Teles to me over the last few days
The one I like the most was how she signed her name
At the end of one of them
That made me chuckle. :)
I know she didn't mean to
How hard it is for her
And that she still loves me
That much I also know, yeah
But there is more at play
How lost and numb she feels
And that nothing can be
Until she finds herself

It's only fair, then, that I go lend a hand
Make it easy for her
Don't fight, let her do it
One of these times where
To love means: to get out of the way.

The reminder pops up
I need to leave early
Got to get some petrol
And beat the rush hour
Wouldn't want to be late.