we drive in your car, me in the passenger seat
talking about your new boyfriend and how kind he is
playing songs that i don't like
i can't drive but i watch the roads with you
your hand on the steering wheel
your hand so close i can feel a current run through us
different from before-not as warm or electric

in my dreams this was different

but it's nice to no longer be enamoured by you
to not think about the stupid things i would do
things that would leave me red faced
things that i would think about before i went to sleep
spinning in my head like an unwound tape
gruesome and divine

i know that i am over you
when i can feel the scabs from where cupid struck
no longer hurting but still there
i am healed but i still like you
you are kind and funny and everything else

but I am no longer drunk on the toxins of your love

we could be friends, i think
as you pull up outside my house
i get out and smile
this was nice
is love dead? will i ever love again?
my thoughts shift like sand
but i am just glad that this tape will never play again
and i will never hear the music