douse me in
your gasoline love
and drench me in
your kerosene kisses
[it's okay. i
like the smell
and the taste.]
but i didn't like
the taste you left
in my mouth
when you walked away
without a smile
and flick your
still-lit-cigarette-butt
looks at me
and light me with the spark
of your eyes that
i used-to-still love [you]
[it's okay. the burns
don't burn as much as
missing you does.]
but i didn't count on
forest-fires of regret
and brush-fires
of wish-i-could-take-it-backs
and watch me burn
for you with a different
fire than i used
to burn with
[let's just say
passion and hurt
are two different kinds
of third-degrees]
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Comments
--
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--
let's nuke the planet and dance in the fallout
[let's just say
passion and hurt
are two different kinds
of third-degrees]
absolutely love those lines.
--
We speak in riddles
Expecting the world
To listen between the lines
--
Click here [link] for instant pageviews!
I put "... fuck.." because it was all I could think of at the moment. I was amazingly tired.
--
let's nuke the planet and dance in the fallout
--
let's nuke the planet and dance in the fallout
I was proud of myself for this one. :]
Yet, the one I'm proud of, is the one with least attention paid.
--
let's nuke the planet and dance in the fallout
It does seem to go that way quite often, doesn't it? I notice the same about the few pieces of mine that I love. But, the way I see it, it's their loss, because I do love this piece and you deserve to be proud of it
--
We speak in riddles
Expecting the world
To listen between the lines
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