Love.
Has been.
Slow.
Well, for me anyway.
But I kept telling myself -
(short-selling myself)
To remain patient.
"It'll be here any day."
But it had been days.
Very long, sad, and fussy days,
That I held to my bosom and nurtured.
Like a baby, with soft finger waves...
Still, they grew up to be bastards - hairy, monthly delays.
I realized that I no longer had that kind of time to wait / waste.
These bills weren't paying themselves.
(So why was I playing myself?)
And if love paid bills, they would have it boxed up on shelves.
Buy two, get one -
$45, on sale.
And hell,
I'd probably have a couple boxes myself.
Probably would buy love, before I paid them bills.
Ain't it a shame...
That love would have you fucked up this way?
Not doing the math, but stuck in exponential decay.
Then finally, once you've gain enough sense to walk away -
You've got more head issues
than Jean Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet.
No thanks.
Love's slow ass, can stay the hell away.
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