A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

I won’t wish you the best. I’m not
being bitter. It’s just, in all honesty,
I can’t. See, you already had the best
and you took it for granted
wrung it dry, plucked it bare,
depleted the mother lode.
My well has run dry, reserves exhausted,
yet I have gained a better understanding
of my worth. I’ve raised my standards.
So I won’t wish you the best,
because I’d never again wish you me.