The image when I close my eyes
of the person who will lie in my bed in sweet evenings
was you
and there can only be one
there can only be one
there can only be one
but it’s not you
and suddenly theres two
but fuck, there can only be one
there can only be one
there can only be one
Isn’t that right?
isn’t that what monogamy has drilled into me

then again today I’m okay with there being two
or three
or four
or more
you called it a rotation
and you’re surprised you’re the only one who’s been in my bed recently

you walked in the bar
looking like a fool
a fool who made me drool
and I still wanted to tear into you
because your eyes make me melt
and your silence makes me wonder

I don’t wanna be at your hands, just body to plunder
there was a moment
of there can only be one
there can only be one
there can only be one

but there other lovers tugging at my heels begging me to feel

something better

beckoning me back
waiting to give me their all
and they aren’t you
but there doesn’t have to be one

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