My beauty isn’t the valuable commodity it once was,
I’ve gone to off-the-rack from haute couture.
You can exchange me for the latest fashion,
but you will always feel the weight of my laughter
freshly pressed against your chest late at night.
You’ll remember when even silence was comfortable
and light—the way a smile could bury our sin.
There’s a receipt here which itemizes
the price of an innocence you misunderstood.
Kept to remind me how expensive everything is
in this house we’ve refurbished with our discord,
and that I’ll always be one luxury you cannot afford.