Your ghost is still in my arms
I can feel your eyes and your palms
Pressed against me. Why do we waste time
Being this far apart?
Come to me and lay your bones
Hold me viciously close
Until I can't tell if breathing is necessary
Torture me until I spill of gold
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 10:32 AM UTC
Your ghost is still in my arms
I can feel your eyes and your palms
Pressed against me. Why do we waste time
Being this far apart?
Come to me and lay your bones
Hold me viciously close
Until I can't tell if breathing is necessary
Torture me until I spill of gold
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