I Was A Black Pen; You Were A Dagger

We Are Two Loose Tongues Slurring Our Curses

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Because I don't want to hand write this right now
Oh good lord, here comes nostalgia/ I know your love for me was just a phase/ I’m still fucked up from those fleeting days/ But Goddamn it’s nights like these/ I miss the passion in your speech/ the burning in your eyes/ And how you saw straight through the subtleties/ The laundry list of white lies/ And my restless, lost mind/ I swear I’d set the past aflame/ If you’d supply the gasoline/ ‘Cause those kerosene lips/ taste like a red sunrise/ Like candles in a cold bedroom/ With soft skin pressed to mine


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