Free of You

So when will I be free of you, sweetheart?
You can’t really believe you need a gun
To rid yourself of somebody you shun;
No need for you to fire a poison dart,
Display my shortcomings in works of art,
Or secretly pose as a restless nun
And stab my kidney. You already won,
And I’ll be over you, soon as we part.

I think we’re done here, or as near as dammit.
I’m done for, right? Time to abandon me
Beside the road, under a willow tree
Like the victims in a book by Dashiell Hammett.
No need to find the victim now: I am it,
Splayed out, played out, and made redundant, free.