Black Russian

Every morning I stir the liquor into my coffee, hoping to a nonexistent god that no one saw me.

And no one did. No one will. I live alone,

and I've got neighbors but I always keep the curtains closed.

I don't wear pants, and I listen to sad songs. And I dance. And I sing.

For the audience of me. It's fun to pretend I'm charming,

that someone might be watching me and fall in love.

Fall in love with me.

The beautiful, pants-less, dancing girl with the vodka in her coffee.

He'd be tall and handsome, and in dark clothes.

I'd fascinate him.

Drown him.

Dazzle him.

Sweep him away.

But I won't.

He can never see.

He won't ever be.

I love alone.

So no one sees. 

No one knows,

why I always keep the curtains closed.