and it's a little game we play called it's good.

it's good that you can turn this off, turn me off
like a faucet that's leaking in your apartment
one that keeps you awake at night
spilling sounds that pull you from your bed
and out of sleep
i can no longer count the sleepless nights we've toasted, can no longer
recall all the times we held up our drinks, we kissed
in stairwells, we stared. well,

it's good to know that as quickly as this came
this just as quietly left
kind of like how spring steals its way into winter's last days
like the flowers blooming outside my window
without a sound, or an explanation, or a promise
to return the following year
yes, it's like i left town once, cowering in cars with two suitcases
knocking at my knees, along with all the goodbye phone calls
i never thought to make

and yeah, it's good that you can turn this off, turn me off,
like a power outage in the city, the kind where lovers crawl into each
other's beds
without the tv on for the first time in weeks
where the only sound is whispering and the twist of bedsheets
and god, i thought it was such a blessing
i thought we were such a blessing
but the lights are off on your side of town, and i am just this sad excuse
in a nightgown
i'm the wake up call you never asked for, you are the lamp on my bedside table
and i'd like to turn this off, to turn you off,
but baby. baby, i am not able.