Real bad poem

I've written-off my life;
There are no bridges left to burn.

I deleted all the numbers on my phone,
No desire left but to be alone

But I still trawl these nights,
Forever searching for you
And your stupid fucking pebble stone:
The one you gave me once, five years ago

That was supposed to bring me good luck, you said -
That I lost, somehow, the same way I lost you.