Bloodstained parchments.
Broken oaths.
Chiseled granite
with
promises
weightless as shadows.
But still we lie.
Wading in the great nothing,
waist deep in murky inks,
wandering
sightless, senseless,
I feel my way.
Memories of grey skin,
black blood.
******* wrapped in ropes,
cherry blossoms
and alcohol.
Still we love our bruises.
Blind and cold
in the nothing,
we feel our way.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
Bloodstained parchments.
Broken oaths.
Chiseled granite
with
promises
weightless as shadows.
But still we lie.
Wading in the great nothing,
waist deep in murky inks,
wandering
sightless, senseless,
I feel my way.
Memories of grey skin,
black blood.
******* wrapped in ropes,
cherry blossoms
and alcohol.
Still we love our bruises.
Blind and cold
in the nothing,
we feel our way.
