Click.

Afraid of a simple feeling, or even a touch
A zip, and who I am will fall out
A raging mess, dressed up in a skirt and a pretty face
Aching for love, to change it to verb-form
For you, or you, or you with the eyes

Afraid of your pitiful knowledge of he and I
Assuring me with a kiss you know everything to be known
Pretty porcelain lips clicking porcelain floor tiles
Aching beneath fucked up stilettos, mine retired
Hiding till morning light, to accompany a disguise

Hot, Mess; Hot, Mess; bitch heels clicking
Filthy, Whore; Filthy, Whore; as clear as I'm speaking