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?

Try me.

This is a torch song.

Touch me and you’ll burn.


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