Rebirthed into cold waters, with saint Sebastian's arrows falling on our foreheads, leaving a penitent blood dripped on my lips. You kissed it off me like it was honey. I wanna meet you again on a desolate hillside, with a punctured bicycle without a Salford lad narrative.
Splitting my lip, on your ivory messages of total control and I love it.
I want to ******* while you're wearing figure skates until marble floors grind down to Henry Moores. You are paradise, found. Dante's balming embrace. It was a bright and soothing daytime. You were ticking the right boxes so often that pencil went through paper and stained my knee with graphite while I was left figuring out a composition, of a portrait of the artist as a young fan of your beauty. as we fell lips-first and made head on collisions look like speedbumps.