Ice Cream

Ice Cream I'm crying. Not because you crushed my heart and threw it like a worn-out sponge into the desert. Yes, I'm crying. Not because you did not smile at me. But rather because your teeth turned whiter than white when a woman's shadow passed by you. Yes, I'm crying. Not because you are completely healed now, and no longer need my whisper to fall asleep; Not because you dedicated all your poems not to me but to another woman, and she stupidly believed you. Yes, I'm crying. But not because I threw away my pillow, and I now must be watchful throughout my life without you. Yes, I'm crying. Severely. Because the ice cream melted before I got home, and I didn't get to enjoy eating it.