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.