I didn’t notice you were gone
’til a little light began to shine
through the curtains you had drawn lifetimes ago. You left a promissory note
in the pages that you wrote,
the ones I said I would never read.
I never promised anything.
I won’t take the blame this time
for making life much less sublime
than the poetry you read at nineteen.
I can’t fight you anymore,
and as you long for the encore,
I can tell you I found somewhere else to sleep.
I never promised anything.
You left a promissory note
in the pages that you wrote,
the ones I said I would never read.
I can’t fight you anymore,
and as you yearn for the encore,
I can tell you that I have gone to sleep.
I never promised anything.