She said, your hearing me, but not listening. He said, oh.
Made a fresh pot of coffee, and she never showed up.
He never does what the play book says to do. Just wings it, and hopes for the best out come.
He’s happy. She’s smiling. All’s good.
He’s a firm believer, of tin foil hat conspiracies.
Riding the express train of thoughts.
Eyes like daggers, panties wadded up in a knot, he knows not to say a word.