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.
