Innit?

I saw the pictures of your new place
and recognised all the furniture
 remembered the colours   textures   and how you looked  naked on them

   It was the wording that threw me
  "Our place" you said   like the one we had
 shared after four years

You've only known him one     I guess that's enough
 It's enough for me to slip   into depression
 picturing him  slip   his     hand

I can't be fine with this finish
Sure   I'll smile through feeling like shit
  but polished shit's still shit