The Other Woman Blues


Autumn Cooley, Writer

Time turns to gold as our hearts mold

Your chest beating near mine gives me butterflies

Neither you nor me can explain the chemistry

Thou I have the feeling it’s because we’re meant to be

Monday through Sunday should our days

Talking and laughing and loving at our own pace

The thought of you taking my hand, officially being my man

It depresses me

Due to my sistership with reality

My youth you take advantage of

And no, I can hardly blame you

I allow myself to be deceived, hoping it will come true

Your starry eyes and glistening smile coming to take me away

Leaving our past behind, looking forward to each day

Maybe one day you’ll look at me and see the girl I see

The who loves you, cherishes you, and respects you

Praying for our holy matrimony

As you hold her close and kiss her lips goodnight

Tell her you love her, for it may be the last time

But as you whisper those sweet nothing into her ear

Be sure to picture me, alone, wishing you were here