I should've listened to the New England fireflies

While (procrastinating before) doing research for an essay, I found this poem by Amber Tamblyn and it's just too good not to expose to the amateur world.

He Seemed Like a Nice Axe

You were adept in the art of slow recoil.
Not a freckle on your face ever cared to surrender.

I stopped counting the times
I couldn't count on you.

Started the habit of smoking to
forgive your mouth for giving up mine.

Whose lips did you kiss
that last time we did?

You went for them like a draw.
A double dog dare.

You just gazed at the bridge of my nose
while the dams around it broke.

My eyes shrunk to combusting plums,
sadder than a Christmas tree on December 26th.

I should have listened to all the New England fireflies
who told me not to.

My heart was a wave
that broke for you.