Even when they’re completed wasted, I can still make out the most fantastic conversation.
I’ve become such a clever confabulator.
Every time my lips become stained, by color or by wine, it’s when I’m getting better with my tongue.
I followed him here to this place, with nothing but my body.
To follow him here to this place, I keep mistaking them to be him.
Producing facile tears is now my special talent.
I’m so good at carrying out casual engagements now.
Every time my lips become stained, by color or by wine, it’s when I’m getting better at stringing them with my words.
I’m so good at bewitching them with my mouth now.
Every time I stain my lips with sakura or sake I know I’m just such a great actress.
I’ve become such a happy phony.
Even when they’re not my man, I can still give them the most radiant smile.
I’ve become such a conniving charlatan.
Every time I stain my lips with sakura or sake I know I’m enough of a fraud.
I keep searching for his warmth, in every man I embrace.
To search for his warmth, I keep thirsting for more skin to be his.
Not even the mirror remembers what I used to look like.