All those singers lamenting falling in love with trouble.
Fickle deceitful or just plain mean.
I won’t be stupid, thought I.
I’ll choose carefully.
And I did.
Shy and quiet, means everything he says.
Intelligent, yet humble about it.
Kind true and
just plain nice.
But he’s uncertain and he tells me and
I fall apart
I hug my knees and
but what if?
and hope flees and
the tears start and
he’s not gone but
I don’t want to lose him.
And those singers who don’t realize
we are safe from unfaithful mean liars
who leave shards to hate and sing about.
Now I see
if he walks away, no shards will he leave behind—
the pain won’t be from him but from
What if I just wasn’t good enough?