I know your heart.
I know you had a sandal-wearing phase,
and I’ll never forgive you for that laundry basket incident.
But you gotta tell her.
I know people make you crazy,
and you’re better with words that don’t say how you feel,
’cause you’re just like me, so much so.
But I’m beggin’ you to tell her.
I know we grew up the same way,
a stubborn spit-pact to forever tough it out,
but for God’s sake, it’s not a game.
She’s there and you need to tell her.
if you don’t tell her,
I’ll put YOU in the laundry basket this time.
For your big dumb sister with the bruised-up heart,
who’s played gambits and called bluffs
and schemed enough in her day,
who’s been in the red so long that zero
was fortune enough to retire-
do us all a solid and tell that girl.
Don’t let her walk away.