Don't listen to the he said she said
I met you and my heart thumped
and boy, how you knew
But you met me with her on your mind
oh honey, I'm freshly wounded too
Warning bells from my friends
and honestly I felt the fear
Seasons changed and you visited again
now I'm ready to lend you my ears
Don't listen to the he said she said
With a blank canvas you approached
"Can I paint us for keeps?" you questioned
Within a week you managed to sketch
Little did you know, the completed version in my head
Your paintings now a work of gold
Contracts dropping, and you were sold
Feeling proud, I side-stepped for you to grow
But no one told me that chivalry was old
Don't listen to the he said she said
"Our sketches, did you managed to finish it?"
I wanted to be able to ask
Taylor Swift on repeat to baby-sit
Protecting my cold heart like a warm flask
I tried not to let their words in
Clinging to promises and memories for guidance
Now please tell me of my sins
For their loud voices are now mine to listen
···
This poem is a part of the Waiting Girl Series. Know more by clicking on the 'Special Entries' tab.
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