And if I may just take your breath away
I don't mind if there's not much to say
Sometimes the silence guides a mind
To move to a place so far away
The goosebumps start to raise
The minute that my left hand meets your waist
And then I watch your face
Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah
These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for
I never claimed to be saint
Slipknot - Snuff
youtu.be/LXEKuttVRIo?fea...
Bury all your secrets in my skin
Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins (buraya bir 🚬)
The air around me still feels like a cage
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again
So, if you love me, let me go
And run away before I
He made a quiet noise of satisfaction when I pressed my face into his chest. His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my head, his fingers threading through my hair.
'skull,' i said suddenly, 'i'm worried about lockwood.'
the ghost seemed taken aback. 'lockwood?'
'yes.'
'hey, you know me. i love him like a brother.' the face adopted an expression of unctuous fake concern. 'what seems to be the problem?'
what was it that made me yearn to walk across? what was it that made me want to give myself to her? it wasn't just that she was exquisite. sure, you had the gently smiling mouth, the soft full lips, the set-square straightness of that lovely nose. I could take or leave all that. you could see similar blandly beautiful young people in any fashion magazine. but she was flawed too. that was the brilliance of it. there was a homeliness to her, something ordinary in the lines of the face that made her seem accessible. it was the flash of doris blower behind marianne de sèvres. you sensed that deep down she understood what it was to feel imperfect and unspectacular. she understood your need for love.