Champs

My favourite jagged shard of glass

The blood comes fast

But the answers don’t

Running out of skin

Running out of time

What a fucking mess we’re in

Dancing under champagne showers

Of someone else’s success

Sleeping under the Clicquot rainbow

That hangs at the bitter end

Holes in my stories and holes in my heart

Holes in my ears and holes in my dress

I wouldn’t expect anything less from you

He said, I would not expect any less.

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