I'm a fast breather. I'm a hairless dog. And alone at the end of the day, I am just like the gathering fog. I'm a slow mover, I'm the best laid plans, and alone at the end of the day I just sit with my head in my hands. But we speak easy, and we seldom fight, and I chew on the bones of the day while you sleep soft and warm in the night. And I can't see you with anyone else. Even if that means holding you down, even if that means losing myself.

He's a smooth talker, and he shaves his face. And I wonder if you look at me and instead see him taking my place. But I do need you, and no one else, and I hope you're around and forgiving when you see me losing myself.