A White Cloud

écorché

I hear your voice like a whisper
In the back of my head speaking
Telling me i'm not the one you prefer
But you'll indulge me if I start sinking
And suddenly all I want is to sink
Deaper and deaper so as to not think
The blazing fire expanding throughout my heart
Devouring my skin inch by inch like it's art
Feels more familiar than my mother's soft embrace
A stupidly hungry smile plastered on my face
Simply over the moon
Patheticly I swoon