Pretty girl
the one who come up to the glass of my body
Who sees a museum of artifacts to marvel at
who is here for the performance of my vulnerability.
Pretty girl
Loves my microphone chest
Lusts over my salt
hungers for the tenor of my voice
Pretty girl
With your straight ridge back
And your lightning eyes
Ive spent too many years culling your attention
Pretty Girl
i am not coming back
for more
No comments:
Post a Comment