Make You Happy
By cynicalsaint
Kiss my sins with bated breath - Your taste was never mine. Rebuke me now for words unsaid; Praising me for your demise. You were born to bleed, you say, Cut by dull hand-me-down knives; Slash your wrists to lick them dry And its never quite enough. Your innocent blood. My fingerprints. Your smile. My cries. Whatever makes you happy. Written January 23rd, 2002 © on Jan 23 2002 08:29 AM PST 0 • 9
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"Kiss my sins with bated breath -..."