Broken Shadows
The coffee stains me
inside out.
The same as pain,
The same as the memories
which prick.
And I regret, or do I?
Never sell your soul for a kiss.
inside out.
The same as pain,
The same as the memories
which prick.
And I regret, or do I?
Never sell your soul for a kiss.
posted by dyingember at 7:31 PM
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