mercoledì 4 aprile 2012

You, on my skin.

My heart is in your hand, and yet you never stand close enough for me to have my way...

To kiss but never be the object of your desire...

You're to have, not to hold... to break my heart...

Do I know you from somewhere?
Why do you leave me wanting more?
Why do all the things I say sound like the stupid things I've said before?


...

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