we fake grin for the camera.
my orchid is wilted.
your red bow tie is askew.
the theme is happily ever after.
we two-step to every slow, country song.
we believe the special lies lovers tell.
you don’t return my phone calls.
you graduate and go to college in maine.
i wonder if patsy cline still makes you think of your momma and the rain.
now, i hold another.
he has your soft, hazel eyes and my full lips.