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What drawer do you keep your stockings
Without secrets this life would be boring Realize we’re all a little vain Or we’d never get dressed in the morning
Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady
We all need an excuse to clear our minds Offering a compassionate ear The clues exist once you pull back the rind
Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink
Dangerous curves under a vintage coat Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman The peculiarities of each soul; I take note
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Taking me back
California nights long ago Palm lined beaches The prettiest I know Youthful charm & bravado Flirting down by the sea I’m taken back these days By the sounds of Social D Like this: Like Loading...
A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin
Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys
Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through the cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack Like this: Like Loading...
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Swapping Daisy Buchanan for Lady Brett
Dreams & visions traded for a martini glass The swirls of ice resemble their hearts The disappearing notion of the dignified class So we raise a toast for decent luck These three olives constitute her daily menu Dancing off silently out onto the veranda Subtly becoming her own performance venue Like this: Like Loading...
I’m spilling my martini
Like a drunken lout
Don’t judge me, lady
Know not what I’m about
Merely seeing my words
You only know what I tell
I’ve never revealed scars
Or invited you to my hell
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