. ... again tonight?
Just like other thousands of faded nights
Against the floor or the wall at the view of tender eyes
Well, maybe to the bed if am so lucky In silence darkness, dead!, literally
.
Then I'd moan at your every breath To avoid another bruise with colored artwork
You'd kiss me with your alcoholic soaked lips
While my eyes stay dead open
.
Tracing the mole on my body Or the mole on my scar?
My soul curses the youthful exuberance that made you my nightmare
.
{the poet that stinks with lines ⚟}
Drunkpoet