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I miss your breath.
Labored and wheezing.
Choked up with phlegm
I miss the times we stayed in bed all day
You swore over the phone to your boss
You'd never felt this way.
You called me the cold
But you're the one who froze out me.
And trapped me in a HAZMAT vial in the
Basement of the CDC.
How can I let you go?
After all that we've been through?
They tell me now that I've been cured
But not from loving you.
You called me common.
Flu like or the croup.
You tried to drown me
With chicken soup
You passed me around
Like a 10 cent whore
But every 4-6 months
I came back for more.
Ebola got a movie
HIV got quilts and songs
The black plague got a tapestry
But I don't even see a handkerchief for me.
Oh Irony.
I'm cured. But not from loving you.
I started to realize you didn't need me
The moment you forgot whether to starve or feed me
It's easy for you to call me your ex
But now how do you explain all those wads
Of kleenex.
You couldn't fight me, sent a man to the moon instead
Now all I do is wonder who's keeping you up tonight in your bed.
I'm cured, I'm cured.
But not from loving you.
I'm cured.
But not from loving you.
Achoo.
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