Songs; or To the Bastard I'm Not Talking To Anymore

This shouldn’t be a surprise, James.
Don’t say you didn’t want to hurt me either,
because if that were true you wouldn’t have gotten
so Lost In The Moment, you wouldn’t be begging me
to Leave Out All The Rest, this wouldn’t feel like
Mr. Brightside.

James, you have the people skills of Marylin Manson,
and the foresight of the Spice Girls.

You know what I’m talking about,
and when I come screaming this at your front door at

3 AM on a weeknight
brandishing a steak knife
and a letter of permission from Alanis Morrisette
you’ll know why I’m there.

Fuck You!

I cannot believe that I had ever wanted to
play The Mating Game with you;
wanted to be sure there’d be No Sleep Tonight
I wanted to end up So Happy Together…

You will realize being an asshole isn’t a turn on;
you told me I was clingy, and bitchy, and that I don’t know how to
walk away. Well, watch this. ‘Cause I’m gonna walk 500 Miles
in your opposite direction.

You’re so hell bound that there is No Surrender,
just another link in a long Chain Of Fools,
there’s no way to Turn Back Time,
because I’m so Gone.

The saddest part? You don’t know
how important The Little Things are.

Here is where anyone who knows poetry would roll their eyes and tell me to quit bitching. After all, how many ways can a woman express her contempt for a former lover in song titles?

Still, those who know me, truly, understand that this contempt is merely a mask, to tame the urge to write the I miss seeing you on weekends poem, instead of the Let’s go smoke hookah poem, the I want you so badly it hurts poem.

I’m tired of loving you, James ‘cause you don’t know how to love me back.
The sad truth is, I’m writing this so I can stop wanting to write the I’ll wait for you to be ready to love me too poem.

If some pretentious ass poem can keep me from being in love with you, and missing how your skin feels next to mine, and how you sing off key, and about how I’d rather be miserable with you than happy with anybody else…

If a poem had that kind of Amazing Grace,
Then I’d be a Believer.