sweet smells of chardonnay whispering and him waltzing in from the kitchen. as if Jazz had legs and walked by you I smiled and he danced towards me. so I said, "paint me up a storm Cassanova. Tell me all your secrets and your lies. And if you don't come back tomorrow, least I'll know we had a chance to say goodbye"
living room mess curled up in a ball talking like nothing's wrong at all