Everyone knew Andy Warhol; he consistently broke the most innocent and beautiful souls. You were his new muse and obviously new to New York. Andy was captivated by your beauty and beauty alone. He couldn’t offer you what you really wanted; that’s why you always came back to Billy. He warned you, always did. But right now, with you in his arms in his bed, he can’t find himself to scold you for your lack of self-care. So all he murmurs is,

“Stay the night.”