i told her that when she got married to that no talent boy bander that i wasnt going to write about her. people ask me if i miss her and i say yeah, of course i do.
people ask if i will ever talk to her again, and i think to myself, but i dont say it, i think to myself, yeah, thats my girlfriend. i dont care who she marries, shes mine. he’ll get struck by lightning one day and she’ll come running back to me.
people ask if we talk on the phone or anything and i say no.
people ask if we ever send carrier pigeons to each other and i say sometimes, but only on a whim, or when we’re drunk.
but i lie, she sends me one almost every day. usually a white one that looks pink in the moonlight.
people ask me why i dont like her husband and i say easy, just look at him, or better yet (or worse yet) listen to him.
they say whats wrong with listening to him.
i say, if i was given the ability to sing, do you think i would sing that sort of crap? would you sing that sort of crap?
i say, if i was married to her, dont you think i would be wearing tshirts that said anna on it.
and on the back it would say fucker.
they say, but you two seemed to be so in love, and i say to them, so.
and they say, but you two were inseperable for a while, and i would say so were dean and jerry.
life goes on. ask benlo. people breaking up and people getting together is the oldest dance move out there.
people say would you ever forgive her for marrying him.
i say maybe.
but i think no.
people say will you ever be back together with her again.
and i say, of course.
look at her.
shes my girlfriend.
and they say awww thats sweet
but they dont see that behind my back, my fingers are crossed.