Her little black dress
catches all the men’s eyes and
half of the women’s.

Love was cursed for her:
it was a four-letter word
spat by bitter men.

You never loved me
and I knew it all along –
your heart’s another’s.

Silver moon rises
piercing the inky darkness
of my wounded heart.

To all the people
saying I’m not good enough:
goodbye and good luck.

Tell me you love me
and really sell it to me
’cause I need the lie.

The sun paints the leaves,
and the cold frosts them each night –
Autumn has arrived.

I fucking hate you –
when things got difficult you
just fucking left me.

You fucked me over
with sultry looks, wanton lips,
and your clothes still on.

This bed is too cold –
I stretch as far as I can
but do not feel you.