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My Velvet Virus

There is no eloquence in your smile,
Or sensuality in your design...
While your words are cups who already finished their last sips.
There is the depth of a hill to your heart,
And an iron coat for your warmth.
Will you deflate if I try to penetrate with my cock?
There is no morning for you to wake up,
Only the evening to pull the tides of your desires.
When you speak of love, it only causes confusion.
As delusion comforts me like a blanket of razors
And yet, as much as I have these open scabs from your touch
From a long time ago...
There is still that mirage of that one, bright day
That you let me have your velvet virus.
drunkenplaywords
Written by drunkenplaywords
Published
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