| broken vows against the window's skin, passion floods selves' first floors - never admit our hands, our fingers, our SCARS could be liquid | |
| Hearts in disagreement about when to beat.eyes fall, stiched now in their moist death.-Never alowing the dance of soul. | |
| the beatiful weakness in her will makes the tears of the sadend glow | |
| Bursting from within, my body aches Passion buried deeply now awakes Expression on my face, vaguely opaque Hiding what's within is no mistake. |
Adding your comment:
