Ritual
On both sides of drunk
and on both sides of sober,
both sides of the truth
and both sides a lie
lie the two of us.
You own the license to my pain,
I hold the leasehold to your wounds,
we hunger for the ritual
embedded in our souls,
bruises that won't heal.
We can't breathe but what
we're bleeding,
leeching out the worst
of how we feel.
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2006
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