your stories are getting sloppy like the smudged lipstick on your face, oh honey, don't you realize that intelligent people have better taste?
of course the first song that comes on is the one with a million memories...me singing to you in your car on the interstate as I hold your hand is such a lovely memory. oh well. it was nice knowing ya. This isn't about anyone (the poem I mean). This is just something that came to me a second ago.