you threw a carton of cigarettes at my head when you forgot that
"Hello" would say your sentiment better
so putting aside that you couldn't give me the justice of it having been cloves
i ignored my mind for your curls and left your hand with the number your drugged out eyes begged
for as you near fell off the porch ledge to re-enact the lust you'd built up
with me-sights and me-stories
and all your record player glory that kept me from saying that these words were unnecessary
i didn't walk away -not for your drunken self-whoring- just for the instinct i'd already carried
a substance that left me between zeros and ones
i'll never know why that counts for enough