It's 7 o'clock on a Thursday night,
As I write this letter,
I write with fright.

I am torn between what I have to say,
What I want to say,
And what I'm going to say.

I crumple the paper,
I toss it away,
There isn't anything worth it to say.

It's 9 o'clock on a Thursday night,
I am starving for love,
A faux appetite,
All I can write in cursive loops,
Is a "goodbye for now,"
And a "goodbye forever."