The Currency of Strangers

Maybe she was a dancer, I didn't have an answer why I
 Took her home that night
 Maybe to hear her cry until the sunlight bled
 In through the blinds
 And crept across her red eyes, like the box of wine
 We emptied with pride
 We wound up in the kitchen, I sat and listened and sighed
 And placed my head on her thigh
 And thought about how I don't want her
 And she said
 I know it's easy to have me
 It's much harder to love me
 When I've developed this touch
 I don't even know myself
 I've asked for help, as of yet
 It doesn't account for much
 Sometimes she feels like dying, she's done trying to smile
 Through the glitter and light
 Feeding the skeezy smiles, on random guys, plastered on
 An overconfident drone
 The cage on the stage is calling, Autumn is falling to spring
 As the beat lingers on
 She doesn't bother to speak of her father, while I try to find
 My way inside
 To think about why I don't love her... And she says
 It's odd that our life's so uneven, if I could believe in a God
 That wasn't so flawed
 And all but caused these afflictions, fighting addictions
 These frictionous fictions now stalled
 In light of these little breaths, signals and nods that catch
 To fool myself in time
 Push dissolves into shove, growing so sick of
 Secret love that stays confined
 And I wish there was a way I could love her
 I tripped and fell
 Did I fall?
 I don't want to feel
 Can't help but feel it now