If her love was a story it’d be shaped with roses and thorns
Blood on her fingertips
Blood on her lips
Blood on her hips
All because of the cuts they left
But they were so pretty she thought she could trust them
Looks are deceiving
They all leave me bleeding
And maybe she would never learn
Not to touch the fire, it burns
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 5:03 PM UTC
If her love was a story it’d be shaped with roses and thorns
Blood on her fingertips
Blood on her lips
Blood on her hips
All because of the cuts they left
But they were so pretty she thought she could trust them
Looks are deceiving
They all leave me bleeding
And maybe she would never learn
Not to touch the fire, it burns
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