my body is a currency,
so pay me in ******* and self-esteem.

and i’ve got skin made of gold,
and a fetish for broken boys.

soft boys,
lust boys.

i’ll have you at the brink of a cliff,
your hand in mine, and i'm pushing you off.

and i am not made of gold, but shards of glass.
and i am not in love with you,
but the thought of breaking you.