The nightmares return
and an attraction is severed;
I begin to question my motives
and I smell blood.
It's my blood.
I can't figure out why
I'm bleeding. It's there,
silken upon my skin;
I cannot see it.
I can taste it on my lips;
it gurgles in my throat.
The puffiness of my eyes
blurred by tears which burn my cheeks,
distort the face
and clutter the name.
It stinks, God it stinks.
Dried blood and old, sweatsoaked leather.
And yet when I feel the kiss
and they taste the blood,
I stop gagging.
There is only me.














Comments
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~Save me from my fears, save my butterflies and love me forever, my beloved Styx~
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Jesus may love you, but I think you're an asshole.
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