…from the cuffs of the jacket you rolled up and smoked. …So you don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.
“When in Rome…" The coffee may taste warmer, the sweets sweeter, and you trick yourself to believe it’s not because you’re paying extra for the ambiance.
You see, the walls are lined with compliments and books stacked higher than your ego- Just a reminder to come down from those clouds. (Ones I tend to mention but you always fail to care about.)
Once upon a time… there were these good, good vibes. Before I often had to sleep in increments of time. I shouted from the rooftops, "Bad news loves me more than you do.” and for the first time, I think someone listened.
I’d like to think you’d douse yourself in these transgressive qualities, yet extinguish them from the cuffs of the jacket you rolled up and smoked. …So you don’t wear your heart on your sleeve, or something like that. However, I am too transfixed by the edges of your smirk to notice.