I like the way you are.
Your uneven scar, on your left shoulder,
that I know from before.
The curls of your hair just perfect
to run my fingers through.
But that's not good enough for you.
I like your freckles.
How you move.
How for those seconds,
you make me special,
and give me those eyes.
But that's unimportant.
That's part of life.
Every time that you've bedded me
I'm good for nothing to you.
I have myself to blame for letting you.
If I told you
I had changed my mind
Would you believe me?
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For Dust And Memories