It's a wild horse, her attitude is.
That's the way they thought. The way she shaded her eyeliner. The way he made her feel. This isn't a fairytale love story.
This is a wild horse locked in a cage ready to let go type of story.
—
He smiled, his alarm clock ringing, his empty mansion urging to be filled with another meaningless Sunday bash.
The empty red cups strewn about his distraught room. His empty pails now filling with aftermath vomit. He smirked wiping his mouth with his genuine tiger felt cloth bedding.
He stood to his feet, hoping in his shower, his mild depression and long dark hair emphasizing his mood.
He hoped for something special to occur today. Once cleaned of last nights sins, he would go out, back down the hills of his small town's equidistant residents and inquire about its local eats.
For there was this girl, the young waitress who he'd fallen for. "Small town diner girl". He'd call her.
"Dinner Gal" was the Perfect title for his next song.
He would pull up to the diner on his blackjack motorcycle. He'd let his hair flail off in the sleeting wind. His black leather jacket and jeans masquerading with his brooding convictions.
He'd smile at her and she'd smile back.
He'd order the usual, she would come back only to have written her number on the napkin upon the side of the glass like plastic plate.
He'd finish the plate, stand up and decide to ask her if she wanted to a ride home.
Him and her, riding off into the sunset,
Forever and in eternally in love.
He would be unrealistically happy.
But after all...
These were just plans...
