After my hair was brushed, combed, and
straightened
You and I dreamed big, slept very little,
You were Mister Right, opening truck doors
Pulling me over next to you in mockery of those
country people
We went on quiet Tuesday night dates:
Two were we, without sarcasm or distrust.
Six months later I was proposed to:
A week later I moved into your loft.
Wondering, "Why did I do it"
Naive, I strove on.
Since you left me I've cried nine days,
Eight hours, and forty-seven minutes.
How could you? That gutter whore, of all
whores?
Everybody's had her, yet
She used to be my best friend -
Back when you were my man, but now...
You can have each other. I found my blue
ballpoint pen.
Fuck both of you, you're nothing.
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