Don't matter, you can read between all the lines and fill in the blanks. Don't matter that nothing happened. Nothin' ever happens. For the best I suppose, realizing with a kind of grim surmise that I am in no state to respond to any kind of romantic notion, so starved am I by solitude that I'd fall for just about anyone just to not spend this night alone... But that you can't buy, no... You can buy an image, or a voice, or a body for an hour or two... But you can't buy the night. Not for the kind of money I've got. That you have to earn. And I don't have the goods.
klik if you demand tedious explanations of every little thing.
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