I asked you over and I don't know why.
We were lying in my bed in the dark when my parents pulled in.
I put my dress back on and you ran down the stairs.
Sat on the couch, turned on late night TV, and pretended
that you had been there all along.

I sat up next to you with a blanket covering my legs.
You were so mad at me.
My parents didn't mind you were there though,
in fact they thought the scared look on your face was priceless
and they wished you'd come over again.
They don't ask questions anymore
if that's what you're worried about.
They know that even if they asked I wouldn't have an answer.
Because like I said I asked you over and I don't know why.

I told you it was because my grandpa was sick and I was lonely.
Which is true and I really was.
But mostly I just wanted someone who knew my body to hold me.
I just wanted a night where I didn't have to be by myself
contemplating all the time I don't have left and all the things
I've still left unsaid.
Maybe I'm just in love when you're here and you shouldn't be.
And maybe I love you all the time but I hate you enough to not say it.
That makes no sense.
Neither does this.

I'm just screaming at walls that won't listen.
About how I could want you stay so badly but I don't need you here.
Your love's really nothing.
It's just something I've gotten so used to having that I expect it to be there.
All the time.
Even when
it makes no sense
for you to be kissing me like that or for telling me you'd stay up until I fell asleep.
I asked you over and I don't know why.
I'll keep asking you over and you'll keep coming but
we'll never really know why.

But I'd like it if you'd keep your hand there and not care
about what I'll feel like tomorrow or what I'll ask you to do next week.
I don't make sense anymore
but truly, I love you
and neither does this.