Gusto

Can’t get out of my bed, can’t help humming the melody,

The one you sang while I was drifting off to sleep.

Yet I hold on to my sizzling ego, set fire to the lying tarot.

Each night I make the grave mistake of standing in your shadow.

Can’t turn away, can’t think of a place that I’d rather be.

I’m twisting and turning, counting all the lost sheep.

But it wasn’t a surprise when you forgot, it was long expected.

I was born to be mistaken for a woman who can be neglected.

Should’ve built dream chateaus,

But now I’m polishing your gusto.

Yet I hold on to my sizzling ego, set fire to the lying tarot.

Each night I make the grave mistake of standing in your shadow.

-JW