Esoterically reconstruct every cliche to present yourself in a way
that he'll see you under whimsical lighting like the left over Christmas decorations in your bedroom illuminating
the spot he first brushed your lips with his and his fingertips aggressively tugged at your hips
Innocently shifting in the sheets
this time alone tossing up thoughts about how he greets you
And says goodbye
Always addressing you by name
He imbues it with an energy that makes you sound prettier than the plain Jane you feel like
in the morning following heavy makeup and champagne saturated nights
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