(no subject)

[nghtwishpoetess]

Your soft lips caressed my scars
But they don't rest easy
The weight of a blade in one hand
Is a siren call
Crying for the release of old form
The heft of that small knife
Is temptation incarnate
But these scars, this skin
Prefers your lotus petal lips
To the kiss of old steel
And so I sheathe the blade....