The Spy Who Loved Me

My sweet savvy Sarah was never lame...
If, you know, that was in fact her real name.
Sarah was no regular girl, you see:
She was, truth be told, the spy who loved me.

We met on a rainy night in New York;
She showed me how to kill rats with a fork.
While her hair around a finger she twirled
She spoke to me in the tongues of the world.

I swear her legs went on for miles and miles,
Though I did tire of all her new hairstyles.
Oh how I loved hearing her pant and moan...
But I hated the way she tapped my phone.

Our love story began to unravel
Due to her excessive "business" travel.
I did not get jealous, nor whine and groan
But love can't grow when you're always alone.

So one day I went out for cigarettes
And never came back - I've got no regrets;
I left a goodbye letter next to the sink,
Using her favorite invisible ink.

The End

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