she says, 'i can't sleep.' as if it is a history of tonight.
her blue-eyed frusteration, mocks the dark. she wants something from you.
"you want to know me; no one knows anyone, anyways. maybe you should forget that, and you won't be as unsatisified." he says.
she hopes for answers but doesn't ask questions.
she sings to herself when you turn your back. wrapped in skin she sings, "i believe the world, it spins for you."
the chai is cold. i can make more, but i like it better this way. i don't get burned.