Fishnet Solace

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I do not define myself by my restless nights
I know I'm about as sacred as my holy tights
When these hoes run
And there's no one left to chase them
Soft spaces between thighs become safe haven
So I rock these ripped stockings
Thinking Santa can one day save them for me
Fill them with treats and cliches of good memories
To replace the empty spaces peeking through my frayed accessories
And the tragedy of last night's predictable trajectories

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