Delicate Boy

Poor Donald.
With a broken heart,
he walked around the
dented white
Toyota Corolla
wondering what to do.
The dent was from an
accident years ago,
but he would
have preferred
a ruined car over
his current
ruined self-esteem.
His shoe was covered in
neon green slushie
that Cheryl
poured on his foot.
It was all he had left,
minus the emptied cup
in his hand.
He wanted to kiss it,
the cup, not his hand,
to relish her,
because she was
really gone now.
"Go, baby, go go!"
he had yelled in disgust,
feeling like an asshole.
It wasn't him.
She left him alone!
Alone.
A flip of her hair and boom!
Gone wearing hot spandex
pants she bought from a gay
thrift store in Long Beach.
They had stretchy
material for her feet
to slide into like an
ass on a swing.
She wore them to bed once
and his toe ran underneath
and snapped it.
The noise was funny and
he laughed,
but she cried.
Could he really be an
insensitive prick?
She poured the
sugary green snow
on his foot
and walked away.
Her ass did look great though,
and sitting on top of the neon
ice was a lid with the straw
still in it.
He picked it up to kiss
and savor her memory.
It was stained with
bing cherry lipstick.
The lipstick made him angry.
Angry.
Because this puny tube
was officially the last thing
she sucked on
before breaking his heart.

Garbage - Cherry Lips