Here we are in this room, surrounded
By posters of scantily clad women
And the smell of old drugs.
I'm on your couch and your hands
Are on me, exploring and feeling.
Only minutes ago you whispered,
"Someone is dying for me to kiss them."
"Not, me," I objected, hoping I hadn't
Given myself away.
"You're a bad liar," you countered.
"No, I'm not; I'm a terrible one," I corrected,
"Now, how are we going to fix that?"
Silly question indeed, because you knew
Just how to fix it and satisfy our desires.
It's funny that we are merely strangers
Because our bodies seem to behave as friends.
Although, I know that you consider me as
More than a possible, pleading, hopeful, one-night stand.
Discarded clothes leave me feeling over-dressed
In this under-dressed world I am no more
Accustomed to than Innocence.
You lead me into temptation and deliver me lies
Of how badly you want me.
But you don't tell me you love me and
I think to myself, what a horrible world.
This is happening, really happening,
With me and you,
But there is no white dress, no black tie,
In fact there's no denying it at all-
It was never meant to go this far
And perhaps it never will.
Please, Joan, just walk away
From this walk-away Joe.
Don't settle for a let-down.
Don't let him lay you down
On this bed of broken dreams
And crinkled sheets from the last girl
In your position.
I don't envy your decision.
But before he comes
In to you
You really should