this morning

morning, sunlight
down st christopher's place
sunday wind across my face
and everything is alright.

she says, this has
caught her by surprise
moment stolen by the sunrise
and we will never be alright.

it's not hard to pretend
she was never a real friend
but this morning's too perfect
to spoil with a lie.

one thread, hanging
between her clothes and mine
I make it to the doorway this time
and everything is alright.

carpets, hallways
finally out the door
can't smell her on me anymore
and we will never be alright.

it's not hard to pretend
she was never a true friend
but this morning's too perfect
to spoil with goodbye.