The morning I left forever,
you slept in late, oblivious.
I gathered up my things
plus a few you don't deserve
(my voice betrayed a tremor)
and left curses at your feet.
Nothing is quite as nice
(nothing, not-a-damned-thing)
as trying to race the sun
while it climbs the eastern sky.
I could feel my heart at peace
sitting in your leather seat.
The only thing I might regret
is that when you wake up
from your idiot moron slumber
and discover what you've lost,
you'll break into cold sweats,
and I won't be there to see it.