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