The Weeks

2013-09-26 | 7:34 p.m.

So he,
Walked in the bar and found you there.
You were drunk, he took you up
On your offered affairs.
Spends the night but never leaves,
Holds to your bed...
Your hand, your sweater's sleeves
And your drowning in a minor debt;
The cost of weeks to find his feet
And all your booze and cigarettes.
You know you made the choice
You let him in...
It isn't right, it isn't fair
But nothing ever is.

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