He never wears black when he visits her.He never wears black when he visits her.She dreams him so beautiful and waits.She dreams him so beautiful and waits.He never waits when she dreams black.He visits her and she, so beautiful, wears him.
His fingertips read her skin in the dark.His fingertips read her skin in the dark.She is tangled in him, and it is too late.She is tangled in him, and it is too late.Too late, her skin, it read and tangled the fingertips.She is his, is dark in him.
But this is her curse, she warns him.But this is her curse, she warns him.Her past will throw them; now she is shattered glass.Her past will throw them; now she is shattered glass.But her throw, she shattered them now; glass-curse past, she is.This--her will--warns him.
This, her glass-curse, is past them.When he visits her tangled will, he waits.His fingertips never throw her, now she warns too-black dreams.She is beautiful, so she shattered him.And she is late, but she read him the dark.She wears her skin, and in it, him