Whatever gets you through the night, babe.
Sure, I’ll tell you you’re handsome-
‘I can’t decide if it looks better off or on.’
Yes, I can pretend you’re the only one-
‘The only one for me.’
‘…Babe?’
Just don’t expect me there
In the morning-
‘I told you I was destined to leave.’
It’s not you,
It’s just the lights,
They have a habit
Of flushing out the lies.
pickpoetry 