The Frames That Used To Greet Me

It’s a problem that our choices choose the wrong ones
That’s probably the reason we’re afraid we’ll die alone
To a fault defending a simple course of action
We’re distance and distraction from the nights we’d spend at home
Your eyes seem to observe my room so neatly
Behind the frames that used to greet me
At the bar around the block
Tonight they tell me that you never sleep too soundly
That you might have even missed me
More times than you could count
As you quietly let yourself out