old wine
i felt the weather give way underneath the dryest tinder
so the splinters cut my hands and fed my curiosity:
kissing and sucking my own skin, i wondered if my blood
was an old wine, letting my ego tell stories and get drunk.
so the splinters cut my hands and fed my curiosity:
kissing and sucking my own skin, i wondered if my blood
was an old wine, letting my ego tell stories and get drunk.
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