She didn't cry when love died; just kinda moved it out of the way
on her way out the door to get to wherever she was going to be happy.
Spent two hours doing herself up, perfecting her look in the mirror
as the steam from the shower clung to the walls, and her curlers burnt the air
and her eye liner patiently anticipted its turn.
She didn't cry; just walked on by, closed the door, down the steps and into her car. Put in her cd and picked up her phone to tell her girl she was on her way.
I didn't know she didn't know she didn't care. I let what I wanted color what I could see. I couldn't accept that she didn't want me.
The lie to myself was that I could make work this lopsided partnership I claimed. My foolishness was believing that my point of view was preferred over anything less. But less was more to her than me, and the time that is gone is just gone.
And while its true that some folks are just built that way, without a need for love, just cool if its there - some folks like me are too stupid to see whats real when we're stuck on a dream.
So I packed in my heart with the void that she left, and died a lot for awhile. But it showed me that I wasn't as bright as I thought to hook up with an enemy. I just hope that I learned, cause I hate being burned, not by her but by myself to me.