How did you know you were done?

“How did you know you were done?”

I wanted to know, so I asked someone

“The little things added up,” she said

“To what?” I asked and she counted in her head

147 is the number that pushed her away.

But when I asked this to a friend, she took a deep breath to say-

“My arms turned blue when he clutched me too tight,”

“I was pretty sure he couldn’t be Mr Right.”

A boy I know blamed a girl with long, luscious hair

“I knew I was done, when I had to stop and stare.”

Someone else loved her meat too much

to date a cheegan who turned vegan or some such

“I left before he could leave me,” said another friend

“It had to be me who brought things to an end.”

I asked and asked and found regrets and sorrows and too many towels on the floor,

a narcissist, a cheat, a bastard, a vicious gossip and an utter bore

There were instances of “more than I could bear”

a lack of feeling and no love to spare

But it all boiled down to things going wrong

when two people just couldn’t get along.