I’m not the kind of girl you can bring home to mother.
I will come over at 3 a.m. and sneak in your bed.
With you on your back and your hair in my hands.
You won’t forget my presence, my lips imprint upon your head.
Still I will be gone before the sun rises.
Like a dream, you can almost remember but can not ever forget.
I am only safe to recall in the dark of night.
The moon is my master and you will run from the light.
When you face actuality, you will know I have won this fight.