The Currency of Strangers

Maybe she was a dancer, I didn't have an answer why I
Took her home that night
Maybe to hear her cry until the sunlight bled
In through the blinds
And crept across her red eyes, like the box of wine
We emptied with pride
We wound up in the kitchen, I sat and listened and sighed
And placed my head on her thigh
And thought about how I don't want her
And she said

I know it's easy to have me
It's much harder to love me
When I've developed this touch
I don't even know myself
I've asked for help, as of yet
It doesn't account for much

Sometimes she feels like dying, she's done trying to smile
Through the glitter and light
Feeding the skeezy smiles, on random guys, plastered on
An overconfident drone
The cage on the stage is calling, Autumn is falling to spring
As the beat lingers on
She doesn't bother to speak of her father, while I try to find
My way inside
To think about why I don't love her... And she says

It's odd that our life's so uneven, if I could believe in a God
That wasn't so flawed
And all but caused these afflictions, fighting addictions
These frictionous fictions now stalled
In light of these little breaths, signals and nods that catch
To fool myself in time
Push dissolves into shove, growing so sick of
Secret love that stays confined
And I wish there was a way I could love her

I tripped and fell
Did I fall?
I don't want to feel
Can't help but feel it now