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You’re sitting at the top of my cold concrete steps
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They’re painted beige but the paints starting to chip
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I hand you some brown pills for that pain inside Your head
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The water is in your car that you left running by the Garage
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“That looks like blood.” you say
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Pointing at the window next door
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“It’s possible.”
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Seems anything is
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So I shrug
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I told you to drive me home
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When we found your lover lying
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Naked in your bed
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She’s got a headache like you
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Too much of anything will get you good
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I’m not one for love
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But I hold you with one arm
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Then you cry a little
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In that way where it starts like a cough
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Funny, tonight it’s you and me
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Without them
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I’m thinking this while you smile at me
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We're supposed to be just friends
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You're talking to me with your eyes
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I'm learning
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This is what women do
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You tell me I'm different when I drink
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This much is true
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