Purge.

Delete
Delete
DeleteDeleteDelete

Photos of us, that one summer when nothing mattered.
Posts we wrote, then frantically backspaced.

Status: happy.

Delete
Delete

Polite request, subtle follow, kind liking.
Official friends.
Illegality for entertainment purposes.

Fake snow falling on our heads.

Zoo animals playing, messing around.
We made enemies - but we made them together.

Delete

That night we had Japanese food, shared a bottle of pink.
The time I overheard you talking to your friends about me.
When you knocked me down on the pitch and made me scream.

Instagram claims you're loving life - honey, your face says otherwise.
I sang Florence on karaoke.
I thought we'd be friends; gave you the benefit of the doubt.

You assigned yourself a nickname, and lost my respect. 

Northern boys are my thing, sorry.  Your non-existent sparkly top, my rolling eyes.

You got drunk and giggled too much.

'He's such a gentleman!' Yes, I would know.
Your accent made me grind my teeth.
I made your friends laugh.
The early days.
My housemates liked you better than me.
You kissed me at the worst possible time.

Delete
DeleteDeleteDelete
Delete

Therapeutic. Wonderful. Deliciously free. No more pretending. Once I throw that black tasseled cap in the air, there will be more. So much more. Goodbye, clickclick delete.