As worn to death as that dress is
I still love to see you out of it
As riddled with holes as our story is
I still love every sentence
And when the dead come to reclaim a friend
I'll tell them all the places I've been
A corpse trespassing against your skin
One more drink before the night begins
Now I'm drowning in your conversation
Tracing the recesses of your lips
And as addicted to perfection as I've been
I still find your every flaw my fix.
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