You’re A Fuckover

I tell him time and time again
“Take a hike to a lap dance bar and hold a girl called Candy in your arms”
And sometimes his angst keeps me fizzing like a live wire
I’m all talk and no tush
The guy wants me to shush

And I feel like peeling his fingernails off like daisy petals
Be fickle with what you deeply love
And soon enough it’ll rub off
These things stand the test of certainty, and my distance from him
Is telling me things like “You miss his smell after sex”

And if push comes to shove
I can wind another heartstring around my little finger
He stains my clothes with his kisses so hard
You’d think he were the one wearing lipstick rouge
And try as I might I can’t wash it off, I’m married to him

I wear the tears of a clown and wait for him in the hotel at night
Maybe he’s taken his hike with Candy
But he’s not got much of a sweet-tooth
And I’m left to scratch the walls of my heart dry
Till my fingers scream

There’s no more blood to cry,
There’s none left of it running through me
And trying is like flogging a dead sun
I want to trees to grow leaves, and I want there to be blossoms, all that stuff
But I’m never satisfied by his efforts

And he blinks like a projector
Stunned as he crushes another shot between his teeth
And I’m actually the one holding Candy on my lap
Asking him to shush about burdens like feelings,
Those things that give you aches in places you didn’t think existed inside you

And he’s waiting for me in the hotel at night.


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