I can taste the sweetness on my tongue, like you said. You seem to be of a breed that comes from the night Or what they call a child of the moon. I can see the glint of the jewel The gorgeous melancholy in your voice The selfsame longing for that brokenness; That ache for fragility To be treated as a child As your soul dresses itself in lace and velvet And bites into an apple. Your vice is your pill bottle full of pearls And your ride in what you call your internal darkness. You're still free- Not like the rest of us. for lana xx
