Please...tell me more about it..

Tell me about sewing your oats.
I'd love to hear about how you stole easily the most comfortable part of her eyes when you left her.
Tell me about how you get phone calls from someone that lets you know that they care.
Then tell me about the 365 days that she's never stopped loving you.
I'll respond with a smile that is as friendly as a root canal.
Please don't tell me about regrets. That one that got away. No not that one. The one with the gorgeous body.
I'll tell you about waking up to sorrow.
I'll tell you about going to sleep with a heart that's heavier than my eyelids.
And if i'm lucky, after dinner I can have a pity party with my thoughts and the television.
I'll tell you about the holidays.
I'll tell you about holding hands on New Years Eve. My pockets held my hands that were trembling to catch the tears.
No...please tell me about your escapades. I'd love to hear again from another woman that trust is non-existant in a man.
Indulge me. I wake up every morning for the sole purpose of coming one step closer to death, just so I could really find out who truly cares.
Yet, I love to remember why they don't. Makes being this cynical that much easier for me.

__________________
LowerTown's Finest