How many cigarettes do you have left? One for you and two for me, right? On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you feel? Ignoring the mask you wear, what thoughts run through your head as you lie there at night dreaming of a life you’ve never known? Cut the crap and be honest, just for once, maybe? You write such charming poetry, and charming is your face to match, but nobody likes a liar. Drinking from our cans of Stella, we wander down alleys and trawl through fields using the lights of our phones to guide the way. Giddy like fairies we stumble around block after block laughing at how pointless it all is, but don’t ignore the question. Tell me. No, don’t feed me your chips, and don’t try slipping your hand into mine. Despite my drunken state, I want to know what’s going on inside. For my own satisfaction, I like knowing there are those out there who are as detached from life as I am. And you are, too, aren’t you? Despite that crazy smile of yours, you’re under the wheels every day of the week. You know you don’t need to be ashamed of your weakness. You don’t have to pretend that you’re stronger than you are. Honesty is sexier than beauty, and it’s far more seductive than a set of pouting lips will ever be. So be who you need to be, and leave the rest to me. Do you have a lighter? Thought mine was in my pocket but must’ve left it back at the pub. And where are your glasses? Where’s my wallet, and where’s my mind? We had one too many shots, that’s for sure, but there are no regrets. We did what we had to do, and if we had to do it all again, I’m sure we would. No mistakes and no wrong turns. Just you, me, and the stars, shining without a reason why.