How do you
expect me to breathe
when your touch
feels like acid
on my paper-like skin
Your lips
they're divine
your eyes, your soul,
your being
they creep into mine
You love me
like the sun
who shines ever so bright
only to leave
when comes the night
To feel your warmth
is to risk it all
and to be kept at bay
So I guess it's true
- when people say;
You die a little bit
each day
for the one
you love,
Until dying
becomes -
your little pleasure
d r u g
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