I'm Cured - Aimee Mann

I miss your breath.

Labored and wheezing.

Choked up with phlegm

I miss the times we stayed in bed all day

You swore over the phone to your boss

You’d never felt this way.

You called me the cold

But you’re the one who froze out me.

And trapped me in a HAZMAT vial in the

Basement of the CDC.

How can I let you go?

After all that we’ve been through?

They tell me now that I’ve been cured

But not from loving you.

You called me common.

Flu like or the croup.

You tried to drown me

With chicken soup

You passed me around

Like a 10 cent whore

But every 4−6 months

I came back for more.

Ebola got a movie

HIV got quilts and songs

The black plague got a tapestry

But I don’t even see a handkerchief for me.

Oh Irony.

I’m cured.

But not from loving you.

I started to realize you didn’t need me

The moment you forgot whether to starve or feed me

It’s easy for you to call me your ex

But now how do you explain all those wads

Of kleenex.

You couldn’t fight me, sent a man to the moon instead

Now all I do is wonder who’s keeping you up tonight in your bed.

I’m cured, I’m cured.

But not from loving you.

I’m cured.

But not from loving you.

Achoo.