Fallen angel.

She’s made of
Chipped nail-polish,
Melted make-up,
3 A.M. conversations
And unexplained scars

Her hands were cold every time she touched your face,
Made you wonder what masks she wore over her own

She could make the blood stop dead in your veins,
Or set the pace and make your heart burst into flames

She’s been running for so long
She doesn’t know what it’s like to stop
To give a second chance to life,
And maybe let you stay the night

That time when she drunk-dialled you from the club,
You could almost hear the warm summer night’s breeze in her slur
And as you imagined the sweet Bourbon on her lips,
You realized-
Loving her is like
Falling for a fallen angel,
Except this one doesn’t need a knight to save her,
Her wet lips are probably contorted in a sadistic smile right now;
Go ahead and say your prayers,
‘Cause this one’s a player.

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