Your hands don't move nearly as fast as your lips.
Promises like empty needles set to draw more blood from my heart.
Cut off at the wrists.
You are not feeling anymore.
My Closing Arguements, my last words.
This is not the end. Knife in hand, this could solve everything.
Cold steel reflecting your pretty face.
Prettier as a stab wound.
This is almost better than kissing you.
Kill all ambition. Sprawled across the floor.
Soaked.
Soaked in this stolen beauty.
It's nice to see you bleeding.
We would not want you bleeding.
It's just not enough to cut you in my dreams.
But who's to say I won't think twice about carving out your heart?
I can still see your eyes.
How beautiful they are severed from your skull.
Start the fire and burn like a pig.
Score one for team "you're fucked".
When the flames subside, I will piss on the ashes.
You will see. Underneath these blankets of murderous intentions are weak hands that only wish to feel again. As the screams go unheard, throw it all away.
Your time has come.
In the blink of an eye, I saw it unfold.
In the blink of an eye, we grow old.
