As I read and searched you since we
departed to a transition that
choked me and relieved you,
breathing was only by
forgetting our precious little
drama.
I wanted so bad to shake your
hand like we used to but you
had too many others to hold.
I tricked myself into thinking I was
happy for you when really I couldn't
sleep at night.
I saw what you said and I could sense
I'd ruin your life if we stayed in touch.
I had too much work and you
had too much to drink that night.
I laid down to rest after a tough day and
you laid back down in your bed of roses
where you fell into since we departed.
I'm ok now,
I have no need for that precious little
drama.
You want none of my swinging and I
hate when you're shooting.
You use it on me by taking another girl.
By the way, are you still talking to her?
Or is there someone new like always in
your life.
This precious little drama is all on you.
Don't come running back when your roses
die and she doesn't call.
By now nobody should be surprised as you
hang at bars alone and intoxicate yourself
forgetting you're punishing not pushing yourself to grow stronger.
I'm strong, why aren't you?