Analysis of Broken Guitar

I am weeping,
wallowing in the sadness
of our old love song.
The house reeks
of empty pizza boxes
and spilled beer.
Straining my eyes
I get a glimpse
of my broken guitar
balanced against
your dirty cowboy boots.
I really regret
slamming it over your head.
My eyes are blurred
with the visions of you
and that naked woman
in my bed.
I really am not crying,
about the two of you.
I am just wondering
how I will ever sing
a new love song
with that damn broken guitar.