just in case,

there’s a temporary tattoo on my phone,
that you told me to put on my hand,
that you would have put in an email,
had you known where to find me.

ring the Wisconsinites,
before I walk into the night.
(maybe hang by holiday the lights.)
ring ’em before I need ’em.
(intertwined lines aren’t for my neck.)

and your only hand isn’t for mine,
as I cry while Christmas closes.
i slur a denial that i’ll do anything,
but you reach out to me anyway:

just in case.