Better Eyes
I can tell you a little story,
and I wish it was a lie,
it’s about a woman, of course,
One that I let inside.
She I’d known for many years,
was a good friend of mine,
must’ve known I wanted more
but couldn’t find the time,
for me.
She teased me for years and years,
that ain’t no half-truth,
kept me there right on her hook
as pretty girls will do.
I was always waiting patiently,
this she always knew,
was too young to know the hurt
that lust can inflict on you,
on me.
I liked to hint at moments,
that we should give it a go.
She’d smile and say “maybe,”
maybe was always “no.”
She said the timing wasn’t right,
when it was she’d know.
The mind that I was thinking with
wasn’t high, but way down low,
that’s me.
Then one night I ranted, raged,
said something had shift.
Told her to walk out my door,
that I was done with this.
Then she became a purring kitten,
desperately craving it,
I tore her shirt off then and there,
and to my bed we tripped,
'lucky' me.
Now there is nothing out there
she does not want to try,
and when I said “too far, girl,”
she’ll go find other guys.
The image that I’d built of her
was a fantasy of the mind,
I wish I’d learned, before our vows,
to see with better eyes.
Stupid me…
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