зачем

Our first kiss was like 
biting into cold peas. 
The harsh bitter somehow
seemed almost sweet. 

Our first fight was like
a nest of needles.
Red and soaked,
lethal and violent. 

But the last fight
and the last kiss
they were different.
They were weak.

I do not remember
the last whisper
of your artful lips.
I cannot taste cold peas.

And my skin feels soft,
milky and unmarred.
The past is becoming dull,
but I long to feel a prick. 

1. vajazzercise liked this
2. miserywhore posted this