Monday, August 31, 2009

sparks and burning butterflies
we're a chemistry set on fire
spilled beakers, lost intentions
we lost the directions
acid burning my lips
i have swallowed my share of poison
you exhale me, we laugh
we are the type to love broken glass
the innocence of the trying
the simplicity of electrons
attraction, improper fraction
rubber gloves weren't made for love
and your hands always seem
too damn far away

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