You were poetry in a dark hallway whispering to know me in a psychotic way the way your neck tattoos straddle my throat I’m envious of every girl you’ve ever known.
You were the best and worst nights of my life fucking while the flames lick us at least you’re a distraction from my spiritual death. You’re a god damn angel in a crack den.
With all your words of glass, I felt the wedding dress rip If I don’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing me cry why should I want to give you the rest of my life?
It’s those Saturday mornings laughing underneath the sheets its a glimpse of everything I dreamed that makes me feel hope for us. Saturdays could be our thing.
