Sad poem and sad poem accessories.

I don’t need you.
I meant what I said, but sometimes I feel like a blender
without a lid.
And I keep throwing up “I love you”s and “I’m sorry”s.
So this is divorce.
It’s no wonder people call us a mess;
We’re exchanging pleasantries while we divide up spoils of war.
I’ve always hated the coffee maker.
It stole from the beans what it could
and left hollowed husks in its wake.
The blender did what it could to unite everything,
though some particles were simply too dense;
They became separated and divorced.
“I’m sorry I loved you.”
You take the Kerig,
and I’ll take the Decker.