Excerpts From A Book I'll Never Write

dying thoughts

Traces of my lipstick-stained kisses on the back of your hand—on mine, the sharp ends of a blade.

I'll kiss your lips with mine bloody, your knuckles while mine blue; beaten and bruised, i'll give you my last dying breath

Forevermore.

(when i'm not thinking about dying i think about you or dying, with you)