We have this special thing going on
We are so empty apart but full together
But the day you left my sight
I found something that didn't seem right
It seem like something that cuts like a knife
But the anger that came wasn't slight
It was drawn from pain of lot ago
But you didn't tell me about this secret foe
Could I be tripping
Maybe it was the wine that day I was sippin
It could even be the way we walk
But the look on your face
I had to be smart
Maybe I should not have gone that far
Practicing my snooping skills
Improving my roaming skills
I didn't think something like this was alive
But I guess overtime our time had dried
To the kissing down to the lying
But this is a letter written to you
Not really saying I'm thru
But letting you know I know the truth
Silly inconviences are not in my path
But the wrong that was done added up like math
So tell me if this is untrue
The hints I stumbled upon was false
That I can blame what I saw on menopause
Sincerely yours,
Jane Doe
No comments:
Post a Comment