The Frames That Used to Greet Me

It's a problem that our choices choose the wrong ones

That's probably the reason we're afraid we'll die alone

To a fault defending a simple course of action

We're distance and distraction from the nights we'd spend at home

Your eyes seem to observe my room so neatly

Behind the frames that used to greet me

At the bar around the block

Tonight they tell me that you never sleep too soundly

That you might have even missed me

More times than you could count

As you quietly let yourself out