smoking electricity between your sheets
and listening to your exes call you names
look at what they've all become
see the great things that they've done
(or not)
I want to write these poems across your forehead
across your chest
and make those assholes read them back to you
out loud
tell you how beautiful you are
tell you how perfect you are
you with your copper flowers
twisted heartstrings
plucked and fucked
they never deserved to skin your knees
and all I have is ugh
what liars
your frayed edges are precious to me
and I would fight for them
yeah, too soon, maybe
but I would kill for them
I would kill your broken songwriters and excuses for men
don't you worry, baby.
I've got more of a cock than they do.
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