the time has come for
half-drunken haircuts
and today's last cigarette,
(which incidentally
is the last in the pack)
and playing it off like
i don't give a shit
about you
or even anything.
for everything that's good
there's something
inevitably bad.
come on now,
aren't i the girl of your dreams?
the cold metallic tang of defeat
evident in the corners of your mouth.
despite what you may think (of me)
i do not like to see you this way.