I’m not tired, I’m just disappointed.
Fuck you for thinking I’d be there for you no matter what
Did you think I wouldn’t notice one hand reaching to stab me in the back with the razor sharp dagger I got you for your birthday?
Whilst the other hand caressed my shoulder
Dressed in white
You remind me of my past, and the ghosts scramble out of my throat
The very ghosts who you did a line of coke with
Whilst I was crying my eyes out to songs I had heard a million times before
You’re the only ghost that I share a bed with,
And you’re stupid for not learning to run from me yet,
London is my home, and I think it’s time for you to get the fuck out.
You think I’m not a goddess?
This is a torch song.
Touch me and you’ll burn.