SOL: Barbaric

She drinks me in like all
The metaphors she lets slip between
Silky fingers, in the dark of
Night under a streetlight she
Kisses me like a soliloquy
Hyperbolic professions drip from the tip
Of her tongue to my waiting mouth
She leaves me shameless
Drunk on the thought that she could be the
Last, I want her, I want it to hurt
I implore her between sheets to leave
Me with something tangible
She agrees
Time slips into distant memory as my
Fingers trace the indents her canines left
On my flesh

3AM Thoughts // AKA “The Brighter It Burns The Faster It Dies.”

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