Stuff in the air

Met a girl I used to know. Have a drink. Stuff in the air. Ask about her current fortune. She shakes her head. I light a cigarette and remember the past. Passionate. Car crash. Hanging on for both our lives. How about you, she asks. I shake my head. Lonely, she sighs, licking her pink glistening lips with the tip of her tongue. I nod. Stuff in the air. I know want she's thinking. But it wouldn't work. She likes bastards. I wouldn't stand a chance. Broken in two. Torn to pieces. Sip my drink. Contemplate around. Ignoring all other things. Treat them mean. I don't give a fuck. Spend the day impressing mates. Ignore the phone calls. I know how to do it - I just don't like the rules. She licks her lips once more. I smile. She smiles. Stuff in the air. I watch her reminisce. I gave her stuff. Stuff the bastards could never give. I made her feel. Really feel. I noticed the tiniest things about her. I made her question the reason she sleeps with ice blocks that leave her crying on the floor. She smiles at me. I smile at her. Stuff in the air. Fucking hell. Then it begins. Sucks me in. Pushes me away. She licks her lips more slowly this time. Allowing the wine to linger a little longer. Begins to play with the chain around her neck. Smiles. Doesn't say a word. Not a single word. Just leaves me hanging. Waiting. Wanting. Say something. Anything. Nothing. Not a single word. Then with one dismissive shake of the head, she pushes me away once more. Torn to pieces. Broken in two. She just laughs. She just laughs.
Time to go. Just one more, she says. Still playing with the possible maybes. Life. Politics. Teenage nightmares laying naked on the table. She is amazing. Fucking amazing. If only she knew. But she doesn't know. That's why she likes bastards. Torn to pieces. Playing with fire. Stuff in the air. She smiles at me. I hold back the tears. Time to go. Time to go.