Eyes of an Angel - The Seventh Gate (The 7th Gate)



i take this gun out of mouth and point it right at you

licking warm blood - off of soft lips

caressing the cold - stiffened idea of love

inhaling her beauty - her encompassing scent

soft rain - drowns out the light

lightly pressing - lustful fingertips

upon her lips

ice cold lips - that seem to whisper back

sweetened songs of seduction - stop

shallow pools of paling blue reside in her eyes

slowly fading, being washed away by warm tears

so slow, so quiet

wash away the dried blood on her lips

wash away the memories of his cold embrace



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