Remember the last time we sat together?
I was boxing up the last of my things,
And you turned to me with that condescending scowl.
I could tell you were thinking of something poisonous to say,
Then you spat out,
With the only passionate tone ever to come from your lips:

“Mary, you romanticize everything,
Like that time we ate Ramen for a week.
You slurped a noodle and nodded around the room,
Then babbled on about how we were starving for our dreams.
Well I have news for you,
We were starving because you were late again.
And I couldn’t find my ******* tie,
Remember?
We found it a week later,
Under the bed, next to my bowl,
And then played gin rummy for the last few hits,
How’s that for a dream?”

I continued to pack but you kept staring at me,
Like a creature you have never lived or slept with,
I don’t know if it’s true, but I think you hated me for my innocence,
I do know that I began to resent you for snatching it away,
I wish I never went to that concert on 8th and McClair,
Or asked you to not look at my ID,
So I could drink another *** and coke.
I was a different person then, I wrote about the color green,
And its connotation to nature and eyes.
Now I find myself in a room with stained sheets, bourbon, and Bukowski.
Just so you know,
I never thought we were starving for our dreams.
It just sounded pretty out of my mouth,
Like something nice someone says when a relative dies.
I was just trying to take away the blow,
Of knowing that everything was not how we planned.
Then again maybe you were right,
Maybe I do romanticize things.
Because I still have your Rolling Stones albums under my bed,
And “Let Me Down Slow” helps me sleep when the silence hits.
But at least I have soul, and heart, and butterflies,
All that mushy stuff you hate.
The way your eyes went dull would scare me.
So how are you now?