What a stranger you are,
The way you speak,
And say my name, I get weak in the knees;
I don’t even know your name.
That foreign attitude, the hurt in your eyes—
Just like the aftertaste, it’s here and gone.
Summer is ending, but I don’t think it’s the same;
Even if you walk away, it can’t be just done,
Not like a paperback novel because you’ve got me
Stepping on every page and stumbling in every word.
You’re the salt in sugar, but everyone needs salt sometimes.
I don’t want to say used-to-be or once-upon-a-time;
Let’s give this story a happy ending and give it a name.