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Death By Bedsheets
The antidote isn't
Sweet compared to
The poison, But
It's deadlier,
Your lips are smothered
In the flavors sweetest
To me,
But you feed them
To someone else,
She is to be
The worshipped play
Thing
For a night,
But when the sun shines
Again
Revealing
The exposed bodies
And twisted pleasures,
You toss her away,
With a peice of you,
Too bad I can smell
Her on your collarbone,
I see her finger prints
On your ribs
She has carved a
Road map to her
Place on your back
With her nails,
Something you're proud
Of, I'm sure
Little does she kow,
You love the art not
The artist and you'll
Never come,
You got what you
wanted,
I hope when you notice
Her waitng by
The phone for a call
That won't come
You'll see,
I hope when you notice
The bed you two played on
Covered with tear drops
you'll see,
That where there's
Smoke there's fire,
To kill is to
Die yourself

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"I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old." - William Shakespeare