If I’m being honest, love

I’m a little wanting of

The thrill of forbidden flesh against my own, the taste of running far from home

This wild part of me won’t ever die and I won’t ask her to

Pretty sinner, dizzy spinning in a dirty apartment ; I taste like vodka and cheap riesling, frozen cherries and pieces of a person

Begging for blood and bruises, laughing at your pain and my own

(Most nights like this I just stay home, alone)