unsuffocated
The longing is like
A sewing needle
Nailed in your throat.
Every second
A new wound is open and,
Above it,
A new stitch is sewn,
And you are never
Enough suffocated.
The longing is like
A sewing needle
Nailed in your throat.
Every second
A new wound is open and,
Above it,
A new stitch is sewn,
And you are never
Enough suffocated.