Piano Man
I don't know what it is about you.
Don't know why
I ever even tried.
You play Neil Young-
maybe you also played me.
Your arms are warm BUT our bed smells of something rotten.
We hardly ever speak.
What pains are you numbing as I use you to numb mine?
Could you ever grow to care for a woman who cut off all her hair?
Goodbye.
This poem is about:
Me