Seventy six days and counting.
It won’t be long and just maybe,
I won’t bother to count no more,
Like you never bothered to look back
Or explain; why you said goodbye.
Though sometimes, I wonder
Was it because I make your coffee
Way too sweet for your liking?
Or was it because the rice is…
Either overcooked or raw?
Or because of those eggshell bits
On your over toasted egg and toast?
It is because of the shirt accident,
When I turned your white shirt pink?
Probably not, am I right?
You did say it was alright.
Was it because I drink too much?
At least more than you can handle.
That’s probably it, right?
Cause you did say you hated it,
And I never listened; that’s not new.
I wish you bothered to explain,
Not that it bothers me that is.
Not that I care at this point,
Well, not like I’ll let you know.