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Crazy little thing called spite
I never wanted to love,
I wanted to believe that nothing was that pure
That even daisies, all pure and white,
Grew as a product of our spite,
Cause after all we're the weeds,
Soon to implode, because, what else?
We're the blight of blood white
On grass we promised to leave as our
Neutral ground,
The place we were both free,
Back before I was you,
And you were me.
bittersweet.
I'm only 90% bitter afterall, Darling.
Whats a little more lemon in your life.
.
There's a line you tend to cross,
Late at night, while you hold me close,
And my heart whispers to the beat of starlight,
Feather-touches, and delicate lies,
You begin to speak in hushed tones.
And the scent of wine is heavy on your breath,
I shut my eyes, and revel in the serenity,
The moments before.
.
There's a line you tend to cross,
Late at night, while you hold me close,
And my heart whispers to the beat of starlight,
Feather-touches, and delicate lies,
You begin to speak in hushed tones.
And the scent of wine is heavy on your breath,
I shut my eyes, and revel in the serenity,
The moments before.
© 2012 - 2024 blood-red-ribbons
Comments2
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So true!!! Go for it!!!
