7 September 2011

Glow Sticks

Glow sticks instead of diamond bracelets
And borrowed cigarettes that calm the storm
Of the last shot

A tight dress with a zip that adds to the curve
Lipstick stained hand that holds my shoulder
As we talk about nothing

Sharing the pointlessness of this moment
And lost in false glamour with ease
A realisation begins to dawn

The dance floor whore is Queen

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