Affection for the haunting discretion
That weighs your head down any time
I attempt to have our lips collide.
Devoted to draining the man-made lakes of
Blood on your thighs
I know it isn’t my position
But I will not rest until
Your laughter is replaying like
A beautifully broken record
But if dissociation is how
The quivering hands will be at rest,
If you find solace in the solitude…
I’ll understand your cautious footsteps.