I Hear You Talking, but Your Words Don`t Mean a Thing

I sit holding your white shirt you wore out last night,
Told me you were going to office to get some work done,
And as I look at the collar now stained a crimson red,
I know that something got done, but it wasn`t really work.
[Lie to me, tell me that you don`t know how it got there.]

The scent of a cheap perfume hits my nostrils hard,
As I throw your shirt into the waste bin in our room,
And I know that the cologne you wore out last night,
It doesn`t smell like you were lathered in flowers.
[Oh, someone must have sprayed you with it, right?]

I watched you pour your coffee this morning before you left,
And Honey, those scratches on your back aren`t from me.
I know what you`ll say, that a cat must have got you good,
But it`s funny how I don`t remember us having a cat.
[That`s right, you must have stopped over at your brothers`.]

I remember the sound of your careful feet coming home,
And the creaking of the hardwood floor underneath them,
Steadily, you layed down beside me, holding me tight,
And whispered good night to me under your tainted breath.
[The smell of whiskey must have been a misunderstanding.]

Thump. Thump. Thump.
How your heart beats.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The clock kills the silence.
You rustle nervously.
Breathe, Babe, Breathe.

It`s getting late but there must be lots of work to do,
And you don`t want to face me just yet anyways,
So you stall the broad at the office the best that you can,
Luring her onto your desk; go on, slide off her dress.
[And tell her that it`s just a secret for the both of you.]

You`ll be careful this time, though, because you know now,
That all of the clues you`re leaving behind you in the morning,
They`re somehow disappearing, and you don`t know why,
So you`ll wash off, dab on some cologne and come home to me.
[You think you misplaced the evidence -- ha, how hysterical.]

I`m burning what bridges are left between you and I,
And boy, does the smoke in my eyes ever feel good,
There`s no tears left to douse out the flames this time,
Because I cried myself out falling for all of your bullshit.
[Oh how sweet redemption from your lies feels.]

The phone is ringing, you`re leaving a sorrow-filled message,
And I know you`re watching her hips shake as she leaves,
Turning around, she`ll smile at you and you`ll wink back,
Pretending all the while that you miss me; (you`re such a fake.)
[I hear you talking, but your words don`t mean a thing.]

-Jenna Elphick
November 26, 2007