You told me again, you preferred handsome men, but for me you would make an exception. And you clenching your fist for the ones like us who are oppressed by figures of beauty, you fixed yourself. You said, well nevermind. We are ugly but we have the music.
I don’t mean to suggest that I loved you the best. I can’t keep track of each fallen rock. I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel. That’s all, I don’t even think of you that often.
Notes
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