The Gospel of Gosling: An Inept Birthday Poem

Who are you? Are we supposed to know? You stand there unmoved, impenetrable with that labia of a mouth. Will anyone ever get to the core of who you are? I don’t think Eva can do it. Maybe Lana Del Rey, but not Eva. No one, but no one can understand what goes on behind those eyes.

Your heart’s been broken, it’s easy to see. After Sandra Bullock, you stopped talking completely. Murder by numbers, that’s how she played your emotions. She said it was you who did her wrong, but we all know you don’t know how to hurt–you only know how to heal.