The sound of your voice is an alliteration that plays in my head.
You are not so easy on the eyes, darling.
You have become luminous, as if you painted the sky for everyone to live under it.
And you make it hard for me to hold myself steady, because each word that spills is too heavy, too bloodthirsty, almost like you've been waiting for me to compress your twisted melodies.
But,
maybe you are not so malice, maybe I was too quick to the punch of a heartbeat, because, well, that shit is dismaying.
