I watched her as she ran her fingers through her hair,
Wondering why she was lying about being here.
I texted her asking where she was going next.
She tried to lie saying “nowhere, I’m sick in bed”.
Heartbroken, at the bar, I ordered another,
Complained to the bartender about my so-called lover,
And how I caught her unfaithful but I gave her another chance
And that I couldn’t believe she was making this choice.
The annoyed mixologist gave me another shot
Tired of listening to my bullshit.
“Go talk to your woman, man. I couldn’t care less.”
Defeated, I rose and I turned to leave.
But somewhere courage replaced the numb
And I had to do something while she was still near.
I headed to the table with the girl with the auburn hair,
Choking back burps that smelled of beer.
Steadying myself, using a chair as a crutch,
I composed myself, adjusting my crotch.
I spewed a bunch of words that came out in a jumble
And the girl with auburn hair in the green jumper
Turned to face me, pretty and puzzled
It was when I realized that she was pouting
That she wasn’t my girl, who just sent me a text
Asking if I could bring her some soup since she was sick in bed.
