I’m still trying to fix up the wreckage you left behind, the chaotic strings of misery you let fall to the floor. Each piece delicately piercing my skin, the red glow a contrast to my continual white limbs.
I’ve gotten a lot of things wrong in my life, a lot of missteps I’ve taken in strife; but one thing I’m certain I’ve always gotten right, is the feel of your lips so soft and so light.
I spoke to myself in lyrics and sugar coated words. A melody of lies and symphonies to soften the blow of how i really felt. I licked at the tender taste and fell into a cacophony within my skin. Would this ever end? This denial of feelings?
