Your lips mostly and occasionally that part of you which differs from me most strikingly.
It happens when I listen to Carly Simon which happens so often by accident when I mean to play some Paul Simon or Simon and Garfunkel who, incidentally, brought us together as friends.
You're such a Mick Jagger.
It's not even just that fact that you both have those obscenely sexual large lips.
You think you're a rock star.
You party like you're a rock star.
But you're not.
Your band is awful.
I wonder what I ever saw in you.
Those lips.
Lips I have only kissed a handful of times.
So seldom do those lips release anything worth hearing:
"Beer pong!" "Listen to my band!" "Don't be that girl, Sue."
I hate that you call me Sue.
I hate that name.
You make no sense.
And yet, I miss you.
I think we could be great friends if you'd let the blow job go but
alas
and
alack
you just don't call me back
and I wonder, wonder, wonder
but mostly I don't care.
But those lips.
Goddamn.
You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you, don't you?
