We have a single nightstand
It is a good, solid nightstand
It has a lamp that gives just enough light
And the surface holds just enough things

We talk about having another nightstand
You know, so maybe we can expand
He agrees that, yes, maybe it'd be good to have another nightstand
We part thinking having a second nightstand is the plan

It'd be brighter
And there would be space to unpack more things
A single nightstand is good
But not enough for two people, it is unequal in the service it brings

I wait to hear his thoughts for the second nightstand
And I keep waiting, starting to question his intent;
But no, he knows. And besides, he said he wanted the second nightstand
And there was no reason to lie about how he felt

I think of reminding him about the second nightstand
You know, the one that would give us just enough room to expand
But turns out that wasn't actually his plan
And all he wanted was the one night stand.

I write these songs I'll never sing
Walk like I'm the ******* queen
Don't give a **** 'bout anything
Boy you were so mean to me

But that's okay 'cause this ain't love
Never will be, never was
I'm sure you didn't mean to give me hope
But that's alright because I'm over it

I'm over you, over me,
Over whatever the **** we were supposed to be
And I'm left here alone with my thoughts again
Neither a prayer nor a friend
To talk this out and lay to rest

And this bed is so much colder now
Despite you never being in it
I just feel the potential, overwhelming

Took my body, not my heart
Not like I had one for you to take in the first place

I hate your face, but I love the way you used me
Called me over, ****** me up
Physically bruised me
Guess you couldn't really even lose me

I was never yours, just a lonely girl with hours to spend
In a practically stranger's bed
And now I'm left alone with my thoughts again

Nothing I say ever makes sense
And you sensed that in me
Detached from me
On a mad quest for not my mind, my body
Senses intermixed - boy you wish
But you were just a short term solution to a long term problem
My mind's got pollution, need a potion just to fix it
Drink away my sorrows - don't even got a fake
But the smile on my painted face is fake enough to convince poor ******* like you to
Get me a drink
Give me a dance
Send me a wink
For a night
Same time next week, I'll be on the floor in tears
My vision going weak

'Cause no matter how hard I act like it don't matter
I find myself getting madder and madder
Walking right under the ladders
'Cause my life couldn't get sadder

And I know someday I'll really be over you - you being the one night stands -
When I'm twenty-two and respected with love from a man not a boy
You couldn't break my heart if it never was beating
And the feeling in my mind is that my patience is depleting -
Like the battery on my cell I stare at for, well, ten hours a day
Just trying to find a way to say I never cared about you anyway

I would if I could
You were never any good
Got my number in your contacts
Won't ever text me back

So I'm jaded and alone
Because you won't pick up that phone
I know I will never love you, just thought the things you said were true
About sticking around
And not letting me down
Like all those other people I've had to kick to the ground

Oh well, I guess closure's overrated
And in the end I'll never make it

Just a girl with a pen and a ****** up head
Staring her shadow down through the night
In her cold and empty bed

where are the songs about
the wrong girl,
the not-quite-right girl,
the in-between girl?

we exist.

we tell ourselves that we are
no one's one-night-stand,
no one's rebound,
no one's flavor-of-the-week,

but
we would give anything to be
someone's last dance,
someone's first choice,
someone's only hope.

is there so much that is "wrong" with us?

we are flawed.
we are vulnerable,
we are lonely,
we are cynical and shy...

but
we are also proud,
we are strong,
we are fearless and exquisite,

and we are worth more than “happily-ever-after.”

The smell of woodsmoke in your hair,
     dampened by the shower fog.
The subtle morning chorus,
     the hungover smell of ***,
the tangle of our ankles beneath the pillows.

"I just want to have ***", you said.
An unexpected non-sequitur.
We had been sipping tea or coffee or something.
We had been reminiscing about the old street,
Back when none of us were single.
"yeah, I miss it, too", I said.

"No.  I mean right now", you corrected.
As I turned to see your face, it betrayed little.
Impassive but alert.  Warm but not intimate.  No passion.
I was willing, but remember: this never happened to me.
Something seemed wrong about it,
But was there any harm?

I asked if I could think about it.
You thought about it, too, as we watched a movie.
Halfway through some Ridley Scott epic, we held each other.
We touch-explored and memory only tells me this is true:
With no further reason beyond the will to be,
I soon lay naked there with you.  
It wasn't love but, then again,
This never happened.
Awkward, at first, we found our place,
Our touch and pull, our rhythm and pace.
"no kissing", you admonished, speaking only that.

Though I rest spent and full inside you,
That was your concern.
Too personal.
Too intimate.

We held each other for a while,  you left within the hour,
Saying, "this never happened", and my only thought,
My only answer to you,
Was a solemn confirmation,
That nothing could be more true.