Caricamento in corso...

Blood Soaked Ribbons

I’ve got passion in my hands
Tension in my palms
Tender fingertips
I’ve got heart withdrawals
My hands scrawl
Across the pages
Pen in hand
My memory no longer erases
What I don’t want to see
I write it down
Tenderly
Oh so tenderly
My whole body’s tense
My thoughts immense
A cave to be discovered is coming alive in my brain
A hot wired train
A crash is on the rise
As thick as the blood may be it eventually dries
And stains the floor
The walls, my soul
This is the pull
It’s time to travel deep inside
What it is I hide behind
It’s time
It’s past the great divine
It’s more than a destined meeting
This could make or break the only heart still beating
The only mind still dreaming
Passionate caresses
Kisses on the neck
Fingertips that trail
And lips that beck
They beckon me forward
I’m as sensitive as the tip of a sword
Coming forward to spear the horde
Coming forward to spear the heart
This is no longer what it seems
This is no longer what I’d call destiny
This is just selfless acts
Or maybe a selfish attack
But this cave is too big
Too deep and dark to map
Does your face still hurt from the slap?
Does it hurt as mine does?
Is the imprint still there?
Bright red, or fading dust?
Is this love or is this lust?
Is this a pain to be held in your chest or mind?
Is this something to be forgotten?
Lost in time?
It can’t be
It is what it is
It can’t be something it’s not
It can’t be lost
It can’t be lost
Shadows will play games with your mind
Your eyes
Your heart and your lungs
Don’t let the noose be tied tight around your throat
Your own grave shall be dug
Don’t be hung up on what is blood soaked
Altre opere di S. Morris...



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