I was a dislocated football player
who fumbled love
to a hyper-extended cheerleader
on the sideline.
I didn’t mean to,
but just like listening to a song on the radio,
I didn’t like “Blame it on the Alcohol”…when I first heard it…
but I kept hearing it, so I grew tolerant of it.
I opposed everything that song stood for.
Yet, I knew about every damned word to it!
I even laughed at how ridiculous it was!
Still, I chose to listen.
And with no other selection of song to hear,
it turned into the only tune I could turn to.
It became a hopeless attachment
that I couldn’t see myself living without.
So in essence, I began to love it.
Now, I am hyper-extended
from yelling on the sideline
because she dislocated that love
and limped away.
Our time together was everything
but the scoreboard was always broken.
So by the flip of a coin,
our everything was already nothing.
And if nothing is everything and everything is time
than time is nothing.
This song is out of tune.
Reset the scoreboard if you must.