desperate fingers searching through my hair why aren't you here witness this this golden baby plucking feathers pulling string and grinding teeth I curse you with nothing left but a voice been sliced at the throat cut at the bloom and I flood this room with its peach pink walls inner barricades from places once seen I am breathing, barely thinking of this thing called wishing on all fours for you screaming and screeching, a banshee I hate you I would shoot my leg off if I thought you would care cherub cherry blonde caught in a swell can't catch air swallowing you you and dead space brittle white thighs wrapped tightly around your neck shove this stale scent anywhere I can anywhere you are fuck. baby, look at my scars
Reason for writing:
I have been writing all of this flowery, romantic stuff lately, and I wanted to make sure I still had a pulse. So, I wrote this cheery little poem!
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