Everything I touch,
Feels like a memory,
Of when you touched me,
Can I ask why you're still here,
Cluttering my mind,
Dominating my thoughts,
And making my body ache with longing,
Touch me,
Or walk away,
The choice is yours,
But I have no choice,
You have burrowed yourself under my skin,
And I can't find a knife sharp enough to,
Dig,
You,
Out.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 4:13 AM UTC
Everything I touch,
Feels like a memory,
Of when you touched me,
Can I ask why you're still here,
Cluttering my mind,
Dominating my thoughts,
And making my body ache with longing,
Touch me,
Or walk away,
The choice is yours,
But I have no choice,
You have burrowed yourself under my skin,
And I can't find a knife sharp enough to,
Dig,
You,
Out.
