some nights, I still dream about your kisses
kisses on the neck,
kisses on the hand,
the way your lips tasted when I was helpless
the bitter sadness in that one last kiss
I mean to say, I don't think I can ever forget,
your lips, soft as light and sweet as music,
you could kill me with them,
and I'd thank you.
you could kill me,
and I'll be glad you came over.
my friends are saying it's tragic
how I'm still killing myself over lost love,
but they never tasted your lips,
and I'm tired of biting my own.
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