silent frying pan

Hot wet memories singe my cheeks as they stream down my face
I stand inside myself and scream at you
calling you every name I can think of
while I whisper into the phone
it isn't a secret or a lie if I don't know the truth
but Ill let you hold it against me
or hold me to it
just as long as you hold me
cause I cant let this
and the words we have both told so many others
ever have meant what they mean now
so when I cut myself
this time I bleed into that mold
to make a brand new me
one that's pale and porcelain
for whose fingertips you need.

1 comment:

  1. I appreciate this blog about "the other side of glass" but still I'm trying to look for the blog of glass doors, hope that I could find it.Thanks for having me here.