There is a room of shade between us
But this is merely fiction
Your diction is repetition
The friction is the painful precision
The pleasure becomes agony
******* queen of misery
And if you don’t remember me
Maybe you should look and see
Cause I brushed your hair I touched your skin
Lusted and loved romantically
But you were only nightshade to me
You were the dagger Juliet pierced herself with
A certain kind of stupid death wish
A certain kind of childish fantasy
And I never saw the razor’s edge
Never knew how much you frightened me
Until your blade was six inches inside of me
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 3:43 PM UTC
There is a room of shade between us
But this is merely fiction
Your diction is repetition
The friction is the painful precision
The pleasure becomes agony
******* queen of misery
And if you don’t remember me
Maybe you should look and see
Cause I brushed your hair I touched your skin
Lusted and loved romantically
But you were only nightshade to me
You were the dagger Juliet pierced herself with
A certain kind of stupid death wish
A certain kind of childish fantasy
And I never saw the razor’s edge
Never knew how much you frightened me
Until your blade was six inches inside of me
