By Benjamin Shapiro
Don’t feel like cooking, don’t want to order,

When she goes away, my heart borders 

On cracking to pieces, the thread 

Holding it together begins to shred

And I wait for her return

While food in the oven burns. 

And I listen to a sad waltz

Glad she loves me and my faults 

Because I know she’ll always

Come back in a few days,

But until the day she does

I’ll keep focus on what was.

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