I had to hear the sound of the zip on that dress I asked her back to mine for cold coffee and cigarettes She said she doesn't smoke but she'd have one to impress and she isn't one for coffee So sorry, I digress
Before she sat down all these lines coalesced with secrets and lies, I try to confess she catalysed a crystal convalescence her garnet eyes sparking wildfires in my chest my lungs are so tight they could rival her dress Stung in the heart for kicking the nest took a shot in the dark Again, I digress
A small crowded room - as small rooms tend to be but for everyone there, she was all I could see the picture of perfection, framed perfectly in a dress designed to buckle my knees Crowded c'rod'd quickly becomes we and I was trying to get her on my settee Is it a metaphor if I meant it literally? Excuse me, once more it seems I digress
I just had to get her out of that dress mess up her make up make her hair a mess kiss her when she wakes up and watch her get dressed to undress her again exalted by the scent bask in the sound of the zip on that dress while I sip on cold coffee and smoke cigarettes
The story isn't in order so it's automatically better, right? Like pulp fiction