You say I gave no chances,
no fair warnings,
I did the final dance.
My full time job was mending
I spent 9 years pretending,
that there was real romance.
Romance? What is this?
The antonym of hate…
It started at the Havana,
and ended at a Denny’s date.
My heart is sore,
wounds fester…full of puss,
it can hardly beat any longer, for me to keep up a fuss.
Every part of me was yours…
and my dark.
Your Momma raised you to bite and to bark.
To her demise,
she prepared you to be euthanized.
How was I to know, that you’d take every day for granted…
act like you didn’t have to work,
to keep this love root planted?
A flower will whither if left without water,
and a heart grows cold when its cover is a squanderer.