When it rains into the ceramic bowl of my soul, you drink it so willingly
An unquenchable thirst that a drought envies quietly in bed at night
I am afraid when you choose to ring me out, you will do it so preciously that my over-saturated personality won’t notice the silver lace firmly binding the throat of my memories
An unquenchable craving that a whore envies noisily in your bed at night
Under the watchful eyes of your fists, I will have forgotten how to pleasure only myself
An unquenchable loneliness that your body envies when I lie in your bed at night
My dread sloshes around your soured mouth, petting the plush pink of over-brushed gums, frolicking among teeth, friendly with the stains of cigarettes, and my heart sinks one thousand leagues below your gaze as you swallow the last familiar feeling I have left.
An unquenchable resistance that a war envies secretly in my head at night
When there is a break in the clouds and they stop pouring over everything that I am, will you still be thirsty for me?
An unquenchable
An unquenchable
An unquenchable
When there is a break in the clouds and they stop pouring over everything that I am, will I still be a well of personality?
An unquenchable relationship that a storm envies violently in the absolutes you said that night.
sevenpurplepeonies.com 