Fingertips on my skin,
Lips that burned holes into the flesh of my neck,
Soft and rough, black bruises and charred skin slowly appear,
Staining me,
Scarring me,
Hurting me,
Yet, exciting me in so many ways,
The mere memory ignites a fire in my heart,
The memory of your hands heating up my neck, my chest, my thigh,
And how you always smelled the trail of smoke that followed you,
I shoul've known that you'd sear me when I saw it,
But I was stupid and touched the flame anyway,
And god, did it become so addicting,
The way you lit the cigarette inside of me,
And god, it felt so bad when I quit,
And when you put out the cigarette.
YOU ARE READING
Acidic Waters
PoetryAll this is is a collection of poetry and prose I have written throughtout my life as your everyday human being. Some are completed and edited, whilst others will remain raw permentally. Feel free to leave any feedback you have and I hope you enjoy...
