it hurts
and every kiss, planting roses, you press
down the roads of my neck
leave me b r e a t h l e s s

and you're my aphrodisiac
all glorious nectar clinging to thirsty tongues
and i drink in you,
as you drink in me

and drain my innocence
like blood.
leaving me empty, empty, empty,
and nothing but roses to hold onto.

1 comment:

Write your thoughts kindly, ... or at least as thoughtfully as you possibly could.