Slack in your advice, i've warned you, of the tricks my tongue can still do. course in our touch i am sandpaper, grinding your skin purple blue. you're one for starting the race, before the triggers released. you callous your heart like a landmine, that explodes when your eyes reach my face. so cool in your subtle behavior, so rash in your sailor appeal. my hands have cracked at your beckon, and i've started reinventing the wheel. so i can burst through your door in july, and demand credit as credit is due. and your eyes will burn like those embers, that have warmed me since march verses june.
but it's hot and i want to go home now, i'm so tired of pride and the guts. the guts that it takes to remind you, i'm the roots that are wearing the rut. "you're quiet, but i still smell you, you're the elephant that entered the room." your voice is a poison to hindsight, and i'm fighting to say f uck you too. because it wasnt in your best interest, to remind me of who you once were. as your soul leaks from your pores, and you sell your pride for your lust.
do you remember that time in november? we picked from the mulberry bush. i showed you the flowers you could eat, we breathed in the scent of mistrust. you called me a coward for caring, i called you a novel of bleak. your words were a product of others, our faith was that of the weak. and i kissed you on your forehead, though it tasted of task and misrhyme. you were the book i burned by my bedside, you were my life of shameful disguise.
true to your word, you have burned me, the scars embed in my mind. of the nights we spent in your bed, a beacon within dead of night. you pushed my head to the side, and asked me to leave you there blind. so still to this day, i am trying, to see you again in the light.