The reddest of roses sometimes aren’t enogh for love to blossom. The cold pit in her eyes felt burlier than a warm summer morning hitting you with a goodbye note in the middle of Autumn.
With blood all over I feel All right, she kept on running away from the source to the periphery. Leaving bloodied footsteps behind, all thuds and mindless epiphanies.
Whats the point of sudden realisations when this table between us is the only thing that guarantees not even a small amount of sin.
Its all okay though, you know in another world we’d win.