8.
Poor Catullus, stop being so dense,
and admit what you know to be over is over.
The sun shone on you pretty brightly for a while there;
wherever she was, there you would gladly be,
and you loved her as no other lover ever will.
You designed all sorts of fleshy pleasures,
and, truth be told, she wasn't exactly shy either.
The sun sure shone, all right!
But now she doesn't want any part of it, and you shouldn't either, you wuss,
stop chasing flighty things, and beating yourself up,
have some guts, be a man.
Goodbye, babe. Catullus can take it.
He won't bother you, or show up at your door,
but you, you'll cry your little eyes out when he doesn't,
You slut, what will you live for now?
Who will run to you? Who will tell you you are beautiful?
Who will you love? Who will envy you,
and who will you kiss? Whose lips will you bite?
But Catullus, you keep it up, you can take it.
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