downstairs they're proposing a toast
a boy with icicle fingers
honey eyes
spread evenly with butter
like you did me up
it's all burning
and aching
inside my organs and limbs
like empty minds
and empty hearts
set me up
in red red truths
and black cold lies
fill in the gaps with your hands
cover the hurt with your lips
it's not an innuendo
it's almost
a plea
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