I love the blood on your lips and I mix it on my skin because my love I can be sweeter than caramel in summer but there is wickedness in me that doesn’t give oxygen to your lungs. 

Because I adore the way that you look at me with desire every time I take a step back while calling out your name and the truth is that I could be the petals that fall around you while you declare to love me until the end of our days. 

However, I am more of bites on the neck and jealousy that leaves wounds on the back, because it pleases me seeing you curse for the way I run every time you tell me that you lovelovelove me. 

But we both know that that word is too small for when I pronounce that you are mineminemine and that my identity is your spy because your shadow is my eyes. 

And my way of love is that they would find my fingerprints in your death if you ever think about taking another path. 

As I am of the depressive maniacs that once their heartbeats it doesn’t leave freedom as an option to the love that leaves me longing for a green light with all the cars while I kiss the life out of your soul.

TA.