Compeyson

Too late to love you,

through the aching annex,

where your hollow heart sleeps,

with nightmares of me.

Twenty to nine,

twenty to nine,

twenty to nine.

You’ll never be mine.

The world on the shoulders,

of the white wishes you wore.

I could kiss apologies,

on the long dead lips,

soothe the scorched skin,

our world back in motion.

Twenty to nine,

ten to nine,

nine.

You are mine.

The world shared between us,

and your wishes, my goals.

Yet darling, desperate, dismal girl,

I’m simply not inclined.


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