I was 7 when I learned the art of touch
but that doesn’t make me Lolita’s sister
I was 14 when I thought I figured out *** and love
were one in the same
so tell me why everywhere you touched me
I began to turn black like a the band of a fake ring on a child’s finger
I began to turn a colour I could not wash off
with soap and water
the darker I became the more you began to
smell of rotting meat left out in the sun
you were festering and the holes in your heart
burned through to your skin
sometimes in my sleep
I still smell you waiting in the darkness
and sometimes in the shower
I still find deep marks I cannot ever seem to get rid of
Everyone in this life might mistake the look in your eyes as love
But I will never be so easily fooled again
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
I was 7 when I learned the art of touch
but that doesn’t make me Lolita’s sister
I was 14 when I thought I figured out *** and love
were one in the same
so tell me why everywhere you touched me
I began to turn black like a the band of a fake ring on a child’s finger
I began to turn a colour I could not wash off
with soap and water
the darker I became the more you began to
smell of rotting meat left out in the sun
you were festering and the holes in your heart
burned through to your skin
sometimes in my sleep
I still smell you waiting in the darkness
and sometimes in the shower
I still find deep marks I cannot ever seem to get rid of
Everyone in this life might mistake the look in your eyes as love
But I will never be so easily fooled again
