Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Timur Shamatov Nov 2018
Succumbing to ghosts of lustful past
Knowing that my soul will be the price
Falling further into beauty of our chaos

Baby, I love the way you take it slow
You are the angel at my door and
The devil within me, taking all control

We both know how this will end
Yet, we push on; falling victim to our past
Lonely ghosts reappearing on algid night.
Sometimes even knowing that it’s bad for you, we still push on because it’s familiar.

— The End —