When it comes to goodbye,
I always want to cry,
Inside I die,
Why?

Maybe just one more smoke?
Or at least a good ****?
Even if I choke?
Poke.

At our beach, or just behind the store,
Talking of murders, and gore,
Begging like before,
More.

Please don't go, not yet anyway,
Can I convince you to stay?
Or must you away?
okay...