And it always starts this way
You’ve been on the phone for hours
with an aching head and heart
And he’s screaming at you
And you’re screaming at him
Wishing to God you had never met
And he’s blaming you
And you’re blaming him.
Tallying up a score of who
hates who more
And it always ends like this
Three in the morning and
he’s at your door
Suddenly you’re a parody
of every chick flick ever made
And he’s French kissing away
your crazy
And you’re caressing away
his pride
Bodies fluent in each other’s doctrine
You fall into bed and something
that is easily mistaken for love.
-Tosha Michelle