I miss your words and giggles and miss your perfect smile
I miss your dramatic idea of losing me and even get me bad.
Your smell of tingling mosk and jasmine empowered my soul
It’s reaping every pice of me
Injuring my memory
Of breaking bad into this injustice.
I’m ill and I know it,
I’m ill to know you and Eager to see your skin that pale as the breath of a vampire
That face that caused me nightmares of pleasure
Of re-entering myself in nothingness.
In the end I miss that I don’t know you and I really I don’t have no one to talk through. You’re just a dream, a painful one
A misery cut from a parallel universe.