Even Wild Women Get the Blues

   I used to hate putting the pillow cases on. He liked a perfect bed. I’d put them on messy to get out of doing it he’d save them for me instead Knowing how much I hated it And knowing i was faking he’d watch me put them on in rage With laughter he’d be shaking  These were the little things we had That bonded us together The secret moments that we kept That wouldn’t let us sever Every time i put on a pillow case now, I think of our private game i miss that part of loving someone I’ll bet he feels the same  It’s been two years since our last pillow fight, the one that he turned mean the one that wasn’t playful, That left me black, blue, green Even though i usually smile now When i put the cases on I always make them perfect I’ll never do it wrong  I’ve re written my story They’re now my favorite part I always do the cases first That’s how I healed my heart.

I had met him through friends. After dating a string of non working musicians with a variety of mental health issues and a knack for “borrowing” money from me he was a welcome change, or so I thought. My desperation for a “good guy” was so blinding you could have wrapped me in a giant red flag to the point of suffocation and I would still excuse them away. Oh thank you for this big red blanket, I was so cold, can you wrap it tighter please?   He had all of the things that none of my previous courters had, not to make this about "things" but basic housing and jobs are kind of important.  His own apartment & vehicle- check Job- check  Kind- check  Handsome and funny, the picture of niceness and the cutest golden lab you ever did see- check, check, check, check.   I was writing checks so fast the flags were getting checks.   So long story short we fell in love quickly and after some convincing myself he was “the one” we moved in together entirely too fast....