red-stained fingertips

and days and days and days and days...

i still remember it.
i'm sure i always will.

i hope you don't.
it tasted sweet on your tongue.
i hope that with enough time,
the sugar will spoil.

there's a bug on my wrist,
it nips at my skin.
i have scars there,
in the shape of a kiss.

lipstick on teeth.
mixed red stains.

you're quite funny, really.
you thought that it was sane.
i could laugh for days,
and days, and days, and days.

until my voice is all gone,
and i'm left with the shame,
of being a complicit doll,
in your game.