There's a thirst I mustn't tell you about
in case you take to pearls again,
swallowing the diamond dust
like mommy's milk and then your eyes

are dead to me – more than they've even a
right to be. You're half-mine,
don't you deny it, I'll wallow in this conceit
until those lips of yours touch another girl;

You never managed to understand that you
lost me with every proclamation of love
further and further until now,
and I'm hungry for a set of arms that nearly
crush me, leave me breathless and terrified
and yet I'm running for them, jumping through

burning hoops and there's a smirk looming
out of the smoke, a crooked smile that
makes me beg.

I don't want you anymore.