one, two, three night stand

its not like its goodbye..

unless it is.

is it?

will i wake up tomorrow

alone in this bed?

will i go home today,

never hear from you again?

will i get the call in a week's time,

sorrowful words speaking "i'm sorry,

she's dead"?

it's not like it's goodbye

until it all goes to hell.

one moment we're fine,

next time i see a clock it's been two years.

or three.

or ten, if you're lucky.

it's not like it's goodbye,

i repeat the words you said.

it's not like it's goodbye,

as i finish off another red.

it's not like it's goodbye,

tear stained pillows, colors bled.

it's not like it's goodbye,

through the speaker of a phone.

it's not like it's goodbye,

but i'm still waking up alone.