I told him once he’d broken my heart. He told me he could sew it back together.
Ooooh, a sexy heart surgeon, I replied, all cheeky and cute.
Three days later, he gracelessly cut it out. Now I guess it can restart.
But I don’t need open-heart surgery anymore. It just leaves nasty scars anyway.
But I really don’t need to keep thinking about him… and his happy, old new beginning.