Dead Ladybird

We share blood like alcohol

Running down our throats

And down our arms,

She says I taste like cider.

I think she tastes like vodka.

Each swallow is one step closer to death,

But one swallow never made a summer.


I cannot remember summer now

Because the cold comes with the alochol

And burns my lips:

I am draining her fireblood,

Her life source as she drinks my own

Smiling ear to ear.

Her blood in my body and I am alive.

My heart stops with cold

And the sweet bitterness I love so dearly.


If she is the one who knows me best,

Why does her blood feel foreign in my viens?

She is my winter and my cold,

My summer and my fire.

The blood in my veins.

The End

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