Like the Fingers on a Hand
There were always five boys with her. Maybe she was born with them. She left me the day I asked her, and only her, to marry me. She was the woman of my life, but the five other guys were part of hers.
There were always five boys with her. Maybe she was born with them. She left me the day I asked her, and only her, to marry me. She was the woman of my life, but the five other guys were part of hers.