Last night,
You spoke of cigarettes.
And I fell in love
With your ingenuous self-destruction;
The fifteen-year-old you that now exists
In tar-stained words
Spray-painted provocatively onto a sleep-deprived corner of
The walls of my brain - your words are graffiti;
...
Their beauty makes me restless.
You spoke of cigarettes.
And I fell in love
With your ingenuous self-destruction;
The fifteen-year-old you that now exists
In tar-stained words
Spray-painted provocatively onto a sleep-deprived corner of
The walls of my brain - your words are graffiti;
...
Their beauty makes me restless.
5 comments:
it's just a cigarette and she only did it a couple of time
It harms her pretty lungs.
Spray-painted provocatively onto a sleep-deprived corner of
The walls of my brain
Damn i like the way you move them tongues inside you. I like your words.
I hate them. Everything is contrived and obvious.
Everything is. The very thought of putting it all on paper and you've lost some bits of it.
I still like your words. A lot. I like how they make me feel when i read them.
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