Point of View

Tastefully I decorate, or mutilate,
 depending on your point of view.
 A poem all in red for you.
 It's backwards too,
 depending on your point of view.
 And as my heart pours out
 on this paper table cloth,
 you scribble it out
 and laugh it off.
 And as the days pass by
 since you ran away,
 I've got less to say to you anyway.
 I thought I might miss you,
 but it turns out I won't.
 It turns out I don't,
 'cause it didn't mean much.
 I thought I might miss you,
 but that's really not true.
 Now that we're through,
 I've got a different point of view.
 Recklessly you cut me off, or set me free,
 depending on your point of view.
 I really must mean nothing to you.
 I'm a bad person too,
 depending on your point of view.
 And as the days pass by
 since you ran away,
 I've got less to say to you anyway.
 I thought I might miss you,
 but it turns out I won't.
 It turns out I don't,
 'cause it didn't mean much.
 I thought I might miss you,
 but that's really not true.
 Now that we're through,
 I've got a different point of view.