Ribs, Lungs, Head and Heart
I want you to touch me until
My ribs become piano keys and my
Lungs are filled with sheet music I
Want you to love the way that
Art fills my soul and blooms in
My head, I want you to hate
The way that I can't let go
I want you to touch me the way
That the crisp winter air suffocates
The corrupted inside air.
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