Pearls.

She pulls those pearls around her throat;
Left hand on the wheel, the other on her heart,
She can’t believe the things he wrote.

No matter how far she drives, he’ll always gloat
And relish in how he tore her apart.
She pulls those pearls around her throat.

Shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat,
There lie the words he scribbled like art.
She can’t believe the things he wrote.

Crying on the deck of that shipwrecked boat,
The worst moment of her life was when they did depart.
She pulls those pearls around her throat.

Tears smearing the letters on that crumbled note
Her eyes linger on his handwritten “sweetheart”.
She can’t believe the things he wrote.

In the composition of her soul, he’s only a footnote
And it’s time for her new masterpiece to start.
She pulls those pearls around her throat,
She can’t believe the things he wrote.