I’m tainted from handcuffs and by my scars, by sex and self destruction. My tongue is foul and split, not worthy of kissing your beautiful neck, not of speaking a word to you.
Your blood is fresh and warm, mine only circulates the hate.
I’m stained from hundreds of meaningless kisses, spoiled by the idiocy of dozens. My cheating hand, rather burned, than rewarded with you touch.
Both your smile and your tears are sun and stars, shining and glimmering from your innocence.
My soul is bruised, no more than ashes, reborn and burned down in a thousand dawns.
Yours is pure and bright, nearly blinding others with its light.
My mind is cruel and calculating, proud of all my sins and the ones I drive others into.
You use your sharp mind creatively, always helpful, never dreadful.
Your existence is the pretty contrast to mine, showing me gently, I’m the incarnation of the horned one and
you’re a saint.
Well, what can I say. It’s that feeling that overwhelms you, when you get to know someone that seems innocent and unused. Someone you feel is driven by virtue and, if that exists, the good side. Again, this text is expressing extremes and pushing the limits of contrast, mostly I’m a really nice guy