And that's when he realized,
He knew so little about her.
He had no idea what she prized,
Or the shade of her favourite color,

Was it gray, sliver, purple or pink?
Was it the color of her silly drawings?
Perhaps gold? violet? bittersweet red?
Was it that of all the books she read?

With each and every thought of his,
Her image drifted further away.
He would stay up late in his bed,
And reminisce about that fateful day.

Oh, the day she found a new man.
He, however - how could he have known?
That her new man was never her new man,
Truth is, he just... never knew, man.