Imagine waking up and you’re filled with joy.
You shower and put on your Sunday’s best.
That expensive ass cologne your momma got you a few weeks before the birth of Christ, at the
J.C. Penny store.
Now cupid shows his ass arrows at the ready.
Looking for that lucky couple and you’re praying that you and she are one of the chosen.
You sit at a dim-lit restaurant and jumped the gun and order her drink, along with her meal.
Because let’s face facts and call a spade a spade. And an ace, an ace.
You know her too well… at least that’s what you think.
You wait and you wait, wait a little longer and she does not show.
You drink and you eat, no emotion is shown, you pay, you leave.
Look up to the sky and flip the bird hoping that cupid sees and knows your disappointment.
She’ll call and say sorry, and that she was sick.
Like a sucker, you forgiver her. Not knowing she’s sick of you.
But she’s in bed getting “better,” with another man.
Who’s laughing at you, because you thought you had a chance.