I was going to change.
The inches falling from my waist would have donated themselves to my hair length.
I needed more time.
I was going to be happy.
When I stumbled upon you years from now I'd be wearing a blue dress, accessorizing a good-looking, young democrat.
Picking each item I wear carefully.
Knowing that my new and improved self should be on the lookout.
Knowing one day I would open the door to find an ugly old box. An old box infected with you. Crawling with attendance schools and duck ponds and nice smells and Seinfield and lies.
Lies.
I told so many lies.
To you. To her. To the neighbor down the street. To the bishop. To my family. To the Librarian, yes I really do have a 4th period class and no I should not be in here playing chess.
I am sorry, but please don't tell me to be quiet. Just listen.
I had dreams.
I had dreams we laughed, we danced and we were silly.
We played.
Playfully we enjoyed each other.
Each others faces, and lips, and toes, and comfort foods, and music icons, and hair.
Then, I remember you are an insomniac and you don't dream.
You don't dream,
And you don't care.
I'm sorry, let me rephrase that.
You don't dream,
And you don't care...about me.
You care about God.
You didn't give me enough time.
You were going to be gone for 2 years.
I was going to change.
I'm sorry, I lost the custody battle.
I fought for you, I really did.
But it put up such a fight.
And now you belong 100% to my past.
It's for the best.
The judge is right, "I'm not equipped for the job."
But hey, welcome home.
If you need me, I'll be in search of a good-looking, young, democrat.
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