The poorness of my heart
Such are the beggars,
Crawling on the dirt
That you stepped on,
Reaching for you
But never touch you,
Looking at you like a fortune
That's just out of reach...
And between their crooked voices
I only watch you in awe and disgust
As you sway your curves like lace whips,
With your frozen eyes, cracked...
And on me fixed.
I won't beg for your sin,
That sates the brain not the heart.
I won't beg for your frozen eyes
To crack my ragged skin.
I won't beg
To have them melt in my heart.
I won't beg...
To feel your moon skin
Pressed against mine,
And how those razor lips
Scratch my neck
Between your breaths.
My poor heart,
So eager to get stuck in your fangs
As you tear your veils in front of me,
To choke on your words
Until they become moans.
I won't beg...
As you kiss my sanity with cravings,
As I gasp for air underneath your scent.
I will crack my lips with thirst
And you will lick the blood beneath them.
I will drown myself in your bitter lust.
I won't beg....
For something you've already done






