zebrasindenver

To see your photos,

i want to look upon you.

To smell you upon my sheets,

i want to be with you.

To need this kind of poison,

I want to die from your touch.

The desire to call you, it is late,

and i have other things to do aside from you,

i will write a poem, and you, you will be all you know how to be,

horrible, unjust and hard.