Okay But

She wasn’t his wife.

This wasn’t his car.

That wasn’t real money

Cleared the tab at the bar.

Didn’t get his number.

No, she got more.

Butch blue tatoo swore

WE ARE AT WAR!

Didn’t know where they were going.

Or where this lead.

Both of them lying

In a messed up bed.

So they were headed

They headed nowhere fast.

Could the pain stab deeper…?

Or would it pass?

Maybe the hurting lingers?

Hopefully, yes…