Not mine.
So what? I’ll walk away and just forget.I’ll find someone who
– I believe –
will give me so much more.
I lie
I’m sleeping with another, but
it is just a feint,
a trap
I’ve set for myself, deep within my core.
The scar
you left upon my wrist is not
so much to hide,
No matter who I’m with,
The cut gets deep and wide…
Your soft lips’ trace, it seems, is still right there,
unrinsed by rain or dew…
It doesn’t hurt
that much. I just need more of you…
Pain. Silence. Light. Kiss. Joy. Repeat.
Blood on a razor. Innocence.
That’s it.
The edge.
The only thing
I crave –
a crimson rose to grow
on
my
grave.
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