And even when you agree,
And you want to stay friends,
And you both say its for the best,
And you laugh together afterward,
It hurts all over.
It's not like knives, it's a cold deep ache,
It's intellectual pain, with emotional tears.
It's hard to pick out, spotted, woven into everything.
Every conversation, the color of every cloud,
everything has a touch of the breakup in it.
It's like blue in a Monet.