Worship me that I adored being in love
None of the drugs in the world can give me the same nakedness that was your stare on my skin
Nor could the alcohol give me the lack of memory that I get with our bad moments
It’s what I miss every time that I find myself in the solitude of the bars with dead writing.
Is that I precise the way that you hit me with the delicacy of your lips on my neck
Is that I demand that you bring to my pain of minds your labyrinths of vaults so I can go back to talking about something that intrigues me.
Ta.
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