glory

Sunday, February 8th, 2015

kiss me like a fool with eyes scarred blind by a pathological need to tunnel into my stars, my life, my love
touch me like you’ve ached with the oppression of a million stranded lovers who at the touch of the hand would send the nearest elder in search of the beginning
love me so when you make me cry out no longer will it be in pain of a long gone tomorrow who buried in the charred remains but instead with a passion too loud to answer to the walls of mother church but too quiet for the eager man to tear at his page the sounds of the dearest sin
end me end me end me like the final desperation to cling on to a life thought once magnificent yet nothing but an ill fitted prose of a beggars lost wife

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