My Ex, Why Z?

She’s a glass doll made of plastic,

A silent symphony,

A baby butterfly

But not a caterpillar, see. 

She’s the sense of satisfaction

Men don’t get from buying shoes.

She’s a pomegranate seed,

But just the part without the juice.

She’s nonfat butter ice cream.

She’s that feeling of “just woke up.”

She’s everything and nothing

Which is probably why we broke up.

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