Weak

Something about tonight leaves me cold, if you'll pardon the pun. Eyes downcast. Demure, or furious. I don't know why. I can't see your eyes, which I hate. You can't see mine either, which is my last line of defense. Maybe I'll say something I regret. Maybe I'll regret it right away. Maybe it'll take a few days. Maybe I'll change your mind. World's biggest hypocrite, maybe my worst idea ever. Would I change a moment of it? For nothing short of world peace. Do I regret? Absolutely. But I'll work on that. It's over now. I have lots of regrets, I'm slowly rubbing them out, letting them fade into the background. You wanted this to do good, not bad. You should know by now that you're a force of evil in my life, in all its variable forms. You haven't called me pretty lady since we started this. I don't know why I miss it. I hated it when you said it. I only exaggerated slightly about not wanting to go home. I knew I'd have to face it if I came in. And it was better to stew out there than in here. There was the chance that you'd find a way to fix it. You usually do. You sometimes humour me. That same hug. The same as he had. You hate being compared to him, but you're so much the same. In action, in word, in memory. Maybe one day I'll be able to relegate you too. Say with confidence, "I don't need you anymore." I could say it now, and it would be a lie. Maybe I should brush up on my lying. Might be less painful for both of us. Every time, it always feels like there was something left unsaid. One final line that would tie together the loose ends.
Maybe it's goodbye...

Daydream Believer

P.S. Give me a week, once I've gone back to motown. I ought to be back to normal. Well, normal for me.