And no, they’re, still, NOT H-I-C-K-I-E-S either, I know the difference here, okay???
The kisses you’d planted on my skin, turned to bruises, and, this time, you’d done, kissed me, too fucking hard is the thing. And I’m now, covered in black and purple, and, maybe, indigo too!
The kisses you’d planted on my skin, turned to bruises, I shouldn’t have let you, but I enjoyed, those, free FUCKS, they feel, oh so, amazing (get real here!!!), and, I couldn’t, get enough of you. The kisses you’d planted on my skin, turned to bruises, and, I know I should’ve been, more careful with my heart, but, I fell too hard, for you!
what that looked like…
The kisses you’d, planted on my skin, turned to bruises, and, they’d grown, darker, darker and darker each and every time you’d, come and gone. Until, they’d become, permanent, and I was, branded, by you, like how those ranch owners, used that hot iron, and BRANDED their, cattle? It’s, like that.
The kisses you’d, planted on my skin, turned to bruises, and, for a very long time, I couldn’t, get rid of them, because, as one faded out, another one would, surface, there’s, just NO end to it.
Then one day, I’d, stopped, allowing you, to kiss me, and, then, there were, no more, new bruises. That was the day, I started, finding me back!