linger
I ripped the skin off my fingers, I didn’t want a fingerprint that had touched you to linger.
You could never deserve the feeling that my fingers could grace your skin, spat out your kisses as if I didn’t love the taste of toxicity that dribbled down my chin.
Never known a love to stay, they always crack and crumble to my dismay.
Copyright © Molly Matchett | Year Posted 2024
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