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You basically piss me off,
is how you put a period on
our six months of bliss,
officially putting it in remission.
I stood, dumbfounded,
draped in sadness. You hated
to see me like that, such a
sorry state, pulled the drapes
over my head and I stood there
in brief quiet repose.
I went to make a statement,
but you held your hand up,
I believe,
said, Your words on me have
been spent, you don't have enough
to make a peep, and my objection
went into rejection before it became
one and you sat there, cross legged,
of course, very classy, reading the
magazine I brought for you,
hearing the streak of pink highlighter
circling pictures with your
ooo'ings and ahh'ings over the newest
fashions from Europe.
You were always ahead of these
American girls, and me.