There once was a young woman, who gave too many fucks
If you asked, she might’ve even given you two or three
From the fucks she’d given,
Some said she loved too much,
She cared too much,
Or was just simply too naïve,
She thought she knew what she was doing,
She knew the world was cruel,
She knew that there’d be losses,
She knew she often played the fool,
She thought there were no other options,
She did what she had to do,
So in spite of it all, everyday she’d go out and try her luck,
And if she got burned, “Well,” she’d say,
“That’s just the price I paid today for giving one too many fucks.”
At night she’d stay up worried
For she was lost you see,
Her life she felt had passed her by,
Far too rapidly
She was young and scared of life
Always attempting to keep things to herself,
Keeping it all much too airy and much too light
She seldom got the things she wanted, scared to hurt the one’s she loved,
So often kept silent, never making a mess, still always giving one too many fucks
Not too far away, lived an interesting young man
He was the opposite you see,
For not a single fuck on any day gave he,
He was strange, he had no fears
He lived his life like he was running out of time
Like he was running low on living years
He seldom cared what people thought
Usually gaining what he sought
He took chances, he took risks
You raised him five, he raised you six
He was handsome, he was funny, he was smart
He’d always let you pick his brain,
Whatever it was, science, politics, art
But if it was his heart you were after, you’d get nothing,
Not half, not a quarter, not a single part
Some said he was too dark inside
Had too much anger
Or just too much pride
He thought he knew what he was doing
He knew the world was cruel
In stride he took his losses
Seldom did he play the fool
He thought he knew all his options, and with confidence he chose,
And if he got burned, “Well” he’d say,
“That’s was a hefty price I paid today, but you know what?
I just don’t give a fuck.”
It was late in the year, just as he leaves were turning brown,
They were both running errands, in their busy college town,
She stopped for some coffee, he stopped for some tea,
She sat down, as he was looking for a seat
She saw him coming, as he was walking by,
That’s when the chair at the table beside her caught his eye,
So he too sat down, and began sipping his tea
What happened next came naturally, organically
He asked her for her name,
She smiled and then did the same
As they spoke, he could tell she was quiet,
And she could tell that he was awfully direct,
Despite this they spoke, for hours on end.
At least this is the story they would tell when people asked how they met.
As they spoke, she wasn’t sure,
She knew that somehow they’d crossed paths before.
As she blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear,
For him, a distant, hazy memory became clear.
They had matched on Tinder,
Sometime just as the fall breeze turned into the bitter chill of winter.
She was hoping to get cuffed for the season.
He was on there for much different,
Much less pure reason.
When asked if she was DTF,
She ghosted.
Both were left disappointed and bereft.
They never spoke again.
The end.