Gancanagh
Taste the toxin in your skin
I'll become a slave to whim
Follow you where weary you tread
Won't give up until I'm dead
Waste away to whispers clutch
Emaciated of your touch
Hold me tight and fill this need
In your absence my heart does bleed
Fingertips are fix enough
I don't need your heartfelt love
Hand in mine your opium feeds
Only you can fill my needs
If I knew how to return
To that moment of the turn
When I ended normal life
And fell upon your broken knife
I'll gladly lose so very much
Waiting for your toxic touch
Copyright © Marchioness Of Mock Turtles | Year Posted 2010
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