I'm the ashes of your cigarette, that you perilously crave. I like to see you smile, because when people like you smile, it makes me happy. My heart is in your hand, and you can feel it pumping life. How does that feel? The buzz of your cigarrette will eventually fade, and you will turn black/ turning everyone else as black as you. This game/ this game we like to play. When does it end? and who wins at the end? and when the clouds cry, the green grass grows, and the flowers bloom, and then the little girl comes by and picks them out, everytime. Why do you love me? if you've only seen the first layer of my skin/ promise me that you wont kiss my hands, because i'm on fire, and I"ll burn your lips/make you hurt. What happens next? What step do I take in these shoes, and whos hand do I hold this time? Maybe we shouldn't stop like this? when there's so much more to know. When you cry on me, your tears hit my skin, and make a sizzling sound. And I still feel cold. What is this turning into? because I don't understand this part of the story. and the fact that I feel the need to be a part of other things. this empty box needs to be filled with something, becuase right now it's overflowing with nothing. I really like hearing you speak your mind. becuase everything makes a little more sense to me. I wonder why I keep finding chunks of your fear on my tongue.

Kiss | Me