November

I can't be this elegant for you and I never learned to dance.
I'm in this house, on this floor; a stranger in a strange land.

You never did want to be here; it's not like I chased you here.
You're still just a boy, never fully knowing what he wants.

I don't belong in these halls and the rooms never open for me.
I'm going to walk back to my life, away from you, you poor girl.

I wish you would stay.

I wish I would too.