wear a crown of thorns around your head and i’ll lick the blood off your face
Your thighs are braille
And I will never grow tired of feeling them
Running my hands over your smooth skin and reading every secret your legs
Have tried to keep.
Fantasies spell out desire, beneath my hands
& deciphering you has never been so easy, when you’re an open book
Every Morse code you ever tapped on my wall
Was a lie for the perfect goddess I killed.
She’s under my bed,
And the blood is dripping through the cracks in the floor.
(your life is slipping through the breaks in my head,
I’m sorry)
