In the cold light of day,
when my cheeks are flushed,
full of rage,
when my body is weary,
unable to pretend to be perfect,
when the curtains are open,
covers off,
with nowhere to hide,
he loves me,
still.
In the cold light of day,
when my cheeks are flushed,
full of rage,
when my body is weary,
unable to pretend to be perfect,
when the curtains are open,
covers off,
with nowhere to hide,
he loves me,
still.
