He stained my skin
with his ink;
and he tenderly touched me in unknown places.
He whispered hymns to me,
(though I was deaf to every word.)
He created patterns upon the back of my right hand,
and burned craters on my left.
He pleaded a response
as his dull fire reached my empty veins
as he kissed my lips,
he begged me to stay.
But, I was already gone.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
He stained my skin
with his ink;
and he tenderly touched me in unknown places.
He whispered hymns to me,
(though I was deaf to every word.)
He created patterns upon the back of my right hand,
and burned craters on my left.
He pleaded a response
as his dull fire reached my empty veins
as he kissed my lips,
he begged me to stay.
But, I was already gone.