|
By Laurel Ahlfeld Date: 2009 Mar 29 Comment on this Work [[2009.03.29.15.24.13950]] |
| It's been seven weeks since I heard your voice wishing me happy birthday. Happy birthday and isn't this getting a little hard to make this work. I didn't agree, but I let you go. I'm not the kind of girl who stays in it alone. But you promised. We'll keep in touch. I'll always love you. And this summer you'll see me and work things out. But I'm not the kind of girl who waits around on a man. And you're not the kind of man who keeps promises. You owe me a picnic, a concert, a thousand dollars, and a week straight in bed. I'd gladly forgive three debts for payment on the last. You promised October, November, December, January and then those final words. Had I known the time we parted abruptly would be the last, I would have let you have me in the shed where we said our goodbyes. Surrounded by sod and your family a few feet away in their house. But I wanted to be the kind of girl you'd marry. A girl who wouldn't let you take advantage of her salt stained cheeks behind an unlocked sliding metal door on your family's farm. And in the end, it didn't matter one bit if your mother saw my telltale white cardigan soiled or not. I'm still not the kind of girl you'll marry. And you still break every promise you've ever made. |