I walked home coated in his smell,
it's under my skin.
His whispers are cutting,
little slices down to the bone.
The Earth chokes in weeds,
and his tongue is a dandelion.
But he's the shadow I leave on other men,
a darkness that rubs off me
and sticks.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:27 PM UTC
I walked home coated in his smell,
it's under my skin.
His whispers are cutting,
little slices down to the bone.
The Earth chokes in weeds,
and his tongue is a dandelion.
But he's the shadow I leave on other men,
a darkness that rubs off me
and sticks.
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