2.0

My heart’s beating so fast,
but maybe I’m just being reactionary.
Red. Blinded by eye sight.
I’m tasting your mouth, lost, and a little dry.
What have you been smoking?
It’s not a pleasing taste, but it feels so nice.
Like silk, trailing down.
My skin is turning cold, ice by touch.
It freezes like I have no blood left.
Let me borrow some of yours.
You look a little lost. No one speaks to you,
but you’ve never had the urge to cry.
Where’d you get that rough touch,
like you’re going to work all the time.
Where’d you get that look. Cold.
Like you’re ready for the war to begin.
Looking at you makes my blood run cold.
Let me borrow some of yours.
I’ve never felt so exposed, so worn down.
But you always drink to me later.
You’re a furnace, trying to keep a burn alive.

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