silk and lace could hold you, dear, better than i ever could, my cold fingertips would only cause you pain
i could stay here, you know.
i could live here in your chest like a rose in a glass bottle, beer bottles like time machines and now all i can hear is glass shattering and how i cried and how he apologized (i never forgave him)
I'm dying out like a candle wick, baby,
keep my wax for something useful.
