"she walks in beauty, like the night..."

                                  -John Donne

"...Won't you hold me again
you just laughed, ha, ha, bitch..."
                                  -Megadeth

Why does this have to happen to me, this thing that hurts so bad and frustrates me, making me want to pull my hair out every time i see you walking with him when your supposed to be walking with me, laughing, giggling, pulling your hands inside your coat and looking so innocent like the day i taught you that all you need to know to count to a million is to count to ten, yet you still count to yourself, by yourself, with yourself, or with him, the epitome of envy, envy, envy, even now the neighbor's dog can see that so why must i profess that to the professor of the sad harp who rides down the gravelly grave in the wobbly wheeled milk wagon shouting "it's a fly ball, you gotta play it off somehow" as the loose wheel strays into my path and destroys the 5 cent returnable bottles i was saving to change in for ten pounds of cottage cheese which is almost a million and your favorite fucking thing in the world.

Back to romance...