
She was darkness.
He was cold.
She was empty.
He was the bowl.
She was screaming in silence.
He was the echo.
She was skin.
He was tatoo.
She was broken.
He was an open book.
She was his song.
He was her melody.
Each of them needed each other to be full.
To find lust in what seemed lost.
He was cold.
She was empty.
He was the bowl.
She was screaming in silence.
He was the echo.
She was skin.
He was tatoo.
She was broken.
He was an open book.
She was his song.
He was her melody.
Each of them needed each other to be full.
To find lust in what seemed lost.
-Bell
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