Kathy Sparling
Kathy Sparling


It’s a game we used to play
In the days when neither one of us knew we’d meet and grow apart some day.
You want me to say that I’m ashamed, a victory in what?
A stupid, childish, game.

But I got in the last word,
Your angry silence was the last thing I heard.
You forgot rule number one,
Your guard slipped and I won, I won.

And it almost feels the same:
I’m eight years old again and I just slammed the door on my best friend.
I won’t have to hear I’m wrong again
Oh it seemed so important then, and now.

I got in the last word…

After all it seems a fitting way
For something stunted anyway to so abruptly die.
Whatever lived between us stopped growing
Long before it reached the age of a mature goodbye.

That’s why I got in the last word…