Mr. Bentley and the Car

I’m woman enough to admit when I’m wrong,
Or when I’ve overreacted.

And I did.
I was thrown off guard.
It was a low blow and I wanted you to feel it too.
And I didn’t want to be the last to know.
I wanted you to know that I can walk away too.
That you are not the player moving me, the pawn.
I needed you to get it, that I’m not even a part of the game.
It is what it is.
Its just a car.
If you open the door,
I’ll get in.
Its nice being on good terms again.

But you will know that I am not the one.
I’m not your bitch.
I’m not your pawn.
I’m not anything to you.
It is just what it is.
A car.
And your lame ass game doesn’t run itself on me.
And your shiny rims don’t catch my eye.
And I don’t want you, or your car, or your money, or your commitment or time.
It is just what it is.
Its a car.
Occassionally, I’m up for a ride.

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