I ravage myself in hopes,
but purity was all u needed.
Crinkled bedsheets,
White snow turned red and purple,
Is this your kind of pretty?
My love is such a wretched thing,
To keep within and about.
I spoon it to your lips,
And yet you spit it out.
I built a castle from scattered bones,
Laced it with echoes of your name.
Yet every wish turns out to be ash,
And every ember dies the same.
May 19, 2025
May 19, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC
I ravage myself in hopes,
but purity was all u needed.
Crinkled bedsheets,
White snow turned red and purple,
Is this your kind of pretty?
My love is such a wretched thing,
To keep within and about.
I spoon it to your lips,
And yet you spit it out.
I built a castle from scattered bones,
Laced it with echoes of your name.
Yet every wish turns out to be ash,
And every ember dies the same.
