Is always of dubious fame.

There're times when you start to think it a shame -

You could've hung on, even taken his name.

So what if those were happy days.

Nothing lingers nowadays.

What once was a fresh and beautiful flower,

Now is as appealing as milk gone sour.

Nevertheless, perhaps it's fate:

We're going on one crazy date.

As good as blind

And trying to find

Each other's former selves

Hoping with every question to delve

Deeper

In search of the old lover

Who never was

And now is lost.

Finding which

You try to bed

And I see red.

The names are the same,

But alas - not the game.

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