Kelly came over to steal my boyfriend yesterday. It was a Monday.
She wore baby pink lipstick and her favorite new labret piercing
That meet-me-outside thunder-rolling-in hooded gaze
And a judgement call towards me that I could never meet. Well, maybe on a Wednesday. But in that I was out of luck.
It was dangerous to watch her pull up on her Viper, trail her polished fingertips along his truck. I saw her hike her skirt and shake her choppy mangled hair out from where it matted under her helmet.
I thought, at least, he'd noticed when I'd taken the brush out of my pack that morning and groomed as he bustled around the house. No?
He always did like his women wild. I'm not jealous, I'm envious.
She crept in the door and removed her shoes where I'd just ***** inside, and with her barefeet padded into the livingroom.
Now you can tell I was on my guard, but I wasn't in the mood to pounce.
You have to be, to do what she did. You have to make that decision early. Bite a lemon, shave your legs, set the intention in your mind. That someone's heart is going to get broken, some guy is going to get stolen. And this time it was mine.
So I just sat on the couch bewildered as she broke him into a smile, on a subject only people in town would understand. Do I look like I'm from town, or know hell about it? It ached so to be prodded in that scab.
She left after dropping off some bottles and a snide comment at my expense.
She didn't come back today, but neither did he. And I know.
I let him get away. Or if he's stray then he deserved to get got,
I still love him, however,
Now I love Jack, Jim, and Jerry, a heckuva lot!