different weekend, different person.
i've got my torn jeans in the backseat, a sweater in my trunk.
i'm ever ready to jump, maybe even drown in you.
but where do we go?
it isn't permanent, ambiguous statements of many nights.
today on a red couch, tomorrow with white sheets, the day before sipping green tea.
i ask why, but truth is, i don't want to know.
tucked away, folded, neat and tidy, are people I am most likely to never have in my life. made out of paper, i can set you alight. and when you do burn, you are over in a matter of seconds. that's how i feel about you, you who concern yourself with money.
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