|
She was no longer a user |
|
Don't think she realised we knew that |
|
Not one to make a fuss |
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Why this and not something else |
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Wasn't it obvious? |
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She made such a hash of it |
|
You can't help but notice |
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And an absence of tenderness |
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And who wants to live like that |
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And friends turn their backs on her |
|
She - no longer a user |
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And she wanted to stay home |
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With a box full of postcards |
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And no place to send them |
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Live like |
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Emily Dickinson |
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Without so much as a kiss |
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Or the comfort of strangers |
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Withdrawing into herself |
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But why this |
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And not something else |
