blood like cherries
let it drip, down my lips, as if i will never taste you again; opening a wound and healing yours, you watch as i'm bleeding out like a candle.
you're feeding off the blood from a cut you invented; let it drip down my lips as if i will never taste you again.
a drop on your tongue; a taste so familiar.
blood like cherries.
YOU ARE READING
I Don't Miss You: Volume One
Poetrya bunch of thoughts my heart has spilled for your eyes to read. *soon to be officially published*
