I run my fingers over the scars,
that line your wrist,
and I smile,
thinking that they are parking spots,
for my wayward hands.
and your voice I hear it still,
and I follow the sound of your whispers,
dancing in the echo of my hollowed out heart,
and my innocence reverberates against all I know,
against all I know now.
we laid together under a canopy of stars,
and the fear of getting caught the mosquitoes of our existence.
we stood close to the fire hoping we'd get burnt,
seeking the danger in desire, just to feel,
and we exchanged hearts communicable disease...
the split wasn't even..
it never was.
Dec 12, 2012
Dec 12, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
I run my fingers over the scars,
that line your wrist,
and I smile,
thinking that they are parking spots,
for my wayward hands.
and your voice I hear it still,
and I follow the sound of your whispers,
dancing in the echo of my hollowed out heart,
and my innocence reverberates against all I know,
against all I know now.
we laid together under a canopy of stars,
and the fear of getting caught the mosquitoes of our existence.
we stood close to the fire hoping we'd get burnt,
seeking the danger in desire, just to feel,
and we exchanged hearts communicable disease...
the split wasn't even..
it never was.
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