…between thick and heavy the night stood still, a cigarette’s slow burn as the bitter neon hummed, cheap whiskey…and long legs, with gunpowder between her thighs, as she traced the bullet holes in my tongue, exhaling my confession, with another ghost in my face…and when the dawn came, the only thing left was the lingering taste of salt and gunmetal, her thighs still wrapped around my ribcage, the scars still singing, the whiskey still whispering…and the bullet still lodged in my heart awaiting my autopsy
Rated for Mature(17+)
Bitter Neon
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