deepundergroundpoetry.com
mixtapes dedicated to your laugh
I never feel clean enough to touch you
Like running my fingers down your arms would leave dirt streaks in their wake and your beauty would be tarnished
I take warm rags clean away the spots of dried blood left by other people who have scraped and bruised you
While my own popped stitches leak pus and visera i dont tell you im bleeding out trying to keep you put together
Like running my fingers down your arms would leave dirt streaks in their wake and your beauty would be tarnished
I take warm rags clean away the spots of dried blood left by other people who have scraped and bruised you
While my own popped stitches leak pus and visera i dont tell you im bleeding out trying to keep you put together
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