The ruler of my heart is only swallowed through music
And gentle, incandescent stares through the candles at night.
He won’t kiss you, won’t steer his legs up your sheet, won’t wonder how many more nights this will happen.
He will torture your impatient soul, until it bleeds.
That’s love too. The bloody kind.
Come inside a smokey room. With a paper and pen. Incense and cigarettes, flowers and water. They all go together, too well.
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