- Cab Rides & Cigarettes

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November 12, 2015


Another night alone at the bar that you call home.
Sit there waiting for no one.
And the melting of the ice in your drink passes the time,
Order another to keep you numb, to keep you numb.
And you miss the way it felt when it was new and not routine.
Same production, just different actors every night.
And you're not proud, but not ashamed. Sits alone, you ask her name.
Always know the ending of this play.
And you'll say: Don't go, you know that we've only just met.
I'll call a cab home, or we could walk and smoke these cigarettes.
Early morning; half-asleep.
Half awake under a stranger's sheets.
Not surprised that she's already left.
Find your clothes, and find your smokes, there's no goodbye, there's just a note.
Didn't see just how this would end.
And it says: Don't call. I know that we've only just met.
I'm sorry to have led you on, there's no good that could ever come out of this.
I've got no room for you in my life. I am complicated.
Here's money for a cab home, the drinks, and half-smoked cigarettes.

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