Fill me, innocently, when I've caved completely
If you talk up chances like the ones you'd never take
The emptiness has left me more than I want me
and the way I stare at your . . (?) . .
And I don't consider myself a breadwinner
But if your face is drawn long enough then I have no complaints
And I look much thinner than when you knew me last winter
And I subsist on thoughts of your last kiss and what I lost
What keeps you inside?

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