Fuck the road that was between us while waiting at traffic lights
Fuck the tremble in the wheel of your bike as you cycled past
Fuck Havana cultura
Fuck riding on the back of your bike during the summer
Fuck your white high tops
Fuck eating raspberries in the shed
Fuck fruit picking
Fuck kissing on a bench in margate
Fuck kneeling before me
Fuck the mondrian exhibition we ran through 5 minutes before closing
Fuck the walks we went on
Fuck polishing floors to slide on in our London home
Fuck guest slippers
Fuck yo-yo bears
Fuck your ability to wear odd socks
Fuck your night gown/dressing gown/ night robe or whatever it is you hate that I call it
Fuck falling asleep together during a picnic in Victoria park
Fuck interrupting me in company
Fuck all the Sundays that were premature Mondays to you
Fuck convincing you of your freedom
Fuck 'you have no ambition'
Fuck being your sous chef when you only asked for company in the kitchen
Fuck never cooking together when we moved to london
Fuck crying in the louvre from feeling so trapped and overwhelmed
Fuck pulling me down with you
Fuck 'I don't want this to be the end'
Fuck having the same conversation in two weeks time
Fuck 'stagnating in that room like our relationship did no offence'
Fuck 'you're not the person I thought you were'
Fuck your disappointment when I told you I didn't enjoy swimming in Stoke newington
Fuck your self importance after getting your old job back
Fuck your sorry's