Your mother called to say she wondered why
you had not spoken for so long.
Poor old girl, she’s absolutely sure
she has done you some wrong.

I told he we had broken up
about two months ago,
said I thought you had gone travelling,
which way I did not know.

How could I say her little girl
had grown into a whore
and so humiliated me.
You were rotten to the core.

Did you know how much it hurt to see
the revealing clothes you’d wear
and the way that you would pout and pose
to make men turn and stare?

Do you think it made me happy
that it had to end that way.
Your mind was set on leaving,
I had to try to make you stay.

It’s good that we can talk at last,
and I can let you know
no matter how much you hurt me,
I could not bear to let you go.

I sometimes wish to hold you still,
but I could not have you to myself,
so I’ll settle for talking to your dead head
sitting on my freezer shelf.