Wicked –
Wicked. I'd rather whiskey burn my throat than a sob burn yours from the words that lay between our hardships that we fail every time to get past. You prance your naiveness around like it's a virtue. And I swim in my despair like it's the lost city of Atlantis. We are different in every aspect. You're too sweet, and I'm too bitter. Your words are filled with sugar and I almost parish from the rush. It's addicting but ever so deadly. I try to tolerate our contrasts, but I cannot. Every piece of you ministers like the lake of burning sulfur. Although your lips stand tall identical to the pearly gates. I try to savor the flavor of the high gates, but I know I’m condemned with the others of the past. I am mortal, I am only human–I want it all. Every piece I can break off. The Jezebel spirit lives within your every move. Your sweetness is deception, and your love is filled with lies. I’m only a pawn in your game and an utter fool to let you get away with it. I am...