He comes and stays a bit
Sometimes I make dinner
Other times we talk and sit.
He comes to see the kid
Otherwise he wouldn't be here
It used to feel so good
To be able to feel him near.
Today it's not so comfy
Today it's pretty awkward
We sit and make small talk
and eventually don't say a word.
I wonder what I saw in him
I wonder why I tried
I see how haughty he really is
and I wonder why I cried.
There must have once been passion
There must have been such fire
I know, down deep, I'll always care
But there's nothing left resembling desire.
Every week, we do this again
Monday is so sad
I wish I could just let him go
But I'd like my kid to have a dad.
The last picture he sent before he moved out here.
NGS. Read it.
No comments:
Post a Comment