I feel empty underneath you
Do you know you’re kissing a ghost?
My lips are barely moving,
Maybe a whisper at most.
I think you prefer the ghost
You’re thinking of one anyway
Easier to imagine,
if I have nothing to say.
My hair is too dark
Is that why your eyes keep closing?
She’s off living
As I lay decomposing.
And she’s still the ghost you prefer.
May 8, 2024
May 8, 2024 at 1:05 PM UTC
I feel empty underneath you
Do you know you’re kissing a ghost?
My lips are barely moving,
Maybe a whisper at most.
I think you prefer the ghost
You’re thinking of one anyway
Easier to imagine,
if I have nothing to say.
My hair is too dark
Is that why your eyes keep closing?
She’s off living
As I lay decomposing.
And she’s still the ghost you prefer.
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