martes, octubre 29, 2013

You are my gallows.

You are my gallows. You are my sin.
From the first time I let you in.
I remember the time we almost touched.
In the moment, a quiver, I knew you too much.

The taste of your skin or the nape of your neck,
I will never, never forget.
I’ll be your scapegoat who hangs from a tree.
Dangling so we can be free — you after me.






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