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By Liz Date: 2002 Jul 08 Comment on this Work [[2002.07.08.16.27.903]] |
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The thought that you love me makes me laugh, you don't know the real me at all. You know the sweet little lady put together just so who rushes off to work every morning and back into your arms at night. You love the girl who dreams of nothing more than having a few babies a big back yard and Christmas with your family. It's not your fault: you love a person I led you to believe in. But the real me cruises down the highway as fast as she dares the wind whipping through the windows, hair wild and free. The real me looks at other men some near and some far some right under your nose, and though I won't touch them I want to. The real me craves intensity and passion and things you can't find in the denizens of this small, Wal-Mart-centered town, things I won't have in a backyard full of your children, waking up next to you every morning, never again knowing the thrill of a stranger's kiss. But I said yes, and when that ring cold-clasps my finger it will lock the door on the wild side forever. |