She is a big girl now.
She can take care of herself. She locks the doors and shuts the windows and gets a blanket when its cold.
She cooks dinner when she is hungry, she gets the stove to work just fine.
She knows that whats wrong is wrong and whats right depends on the circumstances. She fell for a new one and they talked for a thousand years time. Under a colder sky than the fridge, that's for sure, she can staple a truth to that. The night took a younger shade while maintaining a black pitch almost deadly to the eyes of the observer, people came and went, gathered around a drunk spirit and clattered off into gates of the memory. No coincidence, there She thought, that this is right around from that one night in December or was it October?
Now She knows a taste what is, now She feels the flattering wings of disaster.
And romance is a sold deal, it is a joke not likely funny to each and every ear and She knows the truth just fine.
Cant She get a night's worth fun?