| Pinch your cheeks so flush with light
|
| leaves little dents so ill-defined
|
| A finger bound in knots of twine
|
| To ground the things that slip your mind
|
| Pale your wrist stays, blue on white to
|
| Match the shapes beneath your eyes you
|
| Fake it through those trying times and
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| All that’s left are laughter lines
|
| Spends much time or do me right where once it’s no longer bright enough
|
| To catch your paper heart alight consumed in burning white I lost your
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| Letters in that fire and though the memories of that touch that cling
|
| The weight of your self-interest passed between two bodies brush
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| Lest this messed your makeshift dress with the faintest smell of this
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| And just beneath the perfume on your neck is the faintest smell of death
|
| You take your faith and circular reminders that say someday you’ll rest
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| Elaborate fantasies of bloody knees and empty providence
|
| You owe your life to promises forgotten, makes the things you never kissed
|
| In retrospect it all seemed so so selfish, well fuck this, fuck this, fuck this
|
| Pale your wrists stay, blue on white
|
| And pinch your cheeks 'neath sunken eyes
|
| Leaves little dents so ill-defined
|
| A finger seen as blue design
|
| A finger bound in knots of twine
|
| to ground the things that slip your mind |