it's 2 AM and i just want to make love, but you're up playing the piano...

like i won't be gone tomorrow.

i'll be gone tomorrow.

"you'll be back."

"yeah, you keep saying that."

one of these "last time's" is really going to be the "last time"

all i ask is that you mercy me.

if you're going to kill me, kill me with the pen...

but then revive me in the bed.

"write for me."

"live for me."

"write me a poem."

"give me life."

you inspire me just to drain me.

"you don't make any sense."

"you just can't make any sense of it."

back and forth, then back at it again.

"you're going to miss me when i'm gone."

"i'll be missing by the time you're gone."

let's agree to disagree.

"touch me"

"open up"

stop it.

"you keep writing these poems about me for your other boys."

"you keep singing songs about me to those other girls."

shut up and just come to bed.