Sorry? Am I really here again? Standing on a dark street, lip bit, trying not to cry? Am I really here, in heels too high for the slippery streets and the shaking?
Why’s it always raining when my heart gets broken? (there’s no denying – half a year got me half way there.)
And now you’ve gone and left me here?
Hell no! You knew. You know.
And I thought with that we might take care. I thought perhaps you cared. Enough to be a better man when it comes to invitation.
See, I know where you’re wounded too (dark spirits will pull that from a conversation). I kept my touch gentlest there. And when I turned out my palms … I understood your right to refuse them.
But it’s been a long time since someone left me so small. Off to take their better call. Leaving me an unspoken message. Alone to hear, loud and clear.
Sorry for taking so long to accept.
I thought you were a different kind. And that – you motherfucker – was a ‘big deal’ to me.