The Girl With A Brown Bag

You’re not mine to keep

Yet it breaks me when you leave

I have no rights to you

Yet jealousy kills me all day

I have no business liking you like this

Too bad, but that’s my business

I shouldn’t like the little things

Like the smile you don’t know you get

Every time you talk to me

Or the scent of your cologne

Whenever you walk past me

The way your hands feel in mine

Or the tingles at the thought of them on me

Shit!

I think of you too much

And not in ways you’d appreciate

But thank heavens, that’s my business