An ode to Bill

 An Ode to Bill (Bless His Heart)

Bill was a man of mystery—
or so he liked to say,
but mostly he was inconsistent
in a very predictable way.

He talked a game of depth and truth,
of feelings bold and rare,
then vanished like a Wi-Fi signal
when things got slightly there.

He’d circle back with casual charm,
as if no time had passed—
like, “Hey, what’s up?”—sir, what’s up
is you fumbled. Hard. And fast.

I used to try to understand,
to decode his every move,
but clarity arrived one day:
he simply couldn’t… groove.

Not to rhythm, not to growth,
not to anything real—
just vibing in confusion
like that was some big deal.

Meanwhile, I got lighter,
cut my hair, reclaimed my space—
turns out peace looks really good
when it’s sitting on my face.

So here’s to Bill, a lesson learned,
a chapter closed just right—
thank you for the clarity…
you are not my type.