(of lovers and wasted words)
...
The lover who came back and broke my heart again
He breathes fire, he breeds his burns with the malice of a young god, his hands shake with uncertainty, shaky cigarette stings my shaky finger, he kisses the pain away but his lips bleed and how do I get rid of all this blood on my hands?
The ache echoes through the years, but I had to know. I had to know if cigarette still burns the same on skin and now I know that it does and I know that if I could go back in time I would do it all over again. Maybe I won't make the same mistakes, maybe I'll make him stay but he is gone now. He is gone and I am in love with him still and I sit here and wonder, how do I make ichor out of all this blood?
