Tonight, There is no love here. The honey ***, Once overflowing, Is full of flies. I am paper-thin. I will burn easily. My teeth arenβt as white as they once were. My eyes donβt sparkle. I am blue and purple And jagged. I am cold to the touch. My eyes sting With cigarette smoke. My tongue, With its sandpaper softness, Will not grace your skin tonight. Let the black sheets of my bed Shroud me from moonlight and The warmth of your hands. Maybe in the morning It will be better. Maybe in the morning Iβll forget that once I loved you. Maybe Iβm just a little bit sour.