She's a cruel mistress.
And I, her constant (slave)
Ashtongue is left on my lips.
And I, her mourner(ing flower)
Shaking my faith with all that she does.
With my hands turning into sand.
These silly notions that she could stay.
I remember her touch. (Pin drop)
Her lips touched mine/d it became melody
With no beginning no end
Sensations
Nerve wracking
Intimate
Killing
Telling