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You all told Jezebel that no woman should look that well traveled.
That she's meant to coil herself into nothing
wearing her torn skin like she's a big mistake.
Her teeth felt like cruel mousetraps and
she had coffee mug rings on her wrists
by the time you all were done with her.
Jezebel ate Altoids like they'd make her sane and
she broke cigarettes like crayons.
Her face was sculpted to break my bones.
Last night she carved into my back with a rusty exacto knife,
“Baby we were lightning, so I gotta tell you,
my head's just refusing to go quietly
it's refusing to go softly
it's making its way out kicking and screaming.
Baby we were lightning, so I gotta tell you,
I've got a rotting halo in my basement and
I need you to take it off my hands.”