Your kisses taste like hawthorn,
your words prickle just the same.
You could not promise not to strike me,
now I wonder why I stayed.
I chewed up holly berries
and licked my wounds until the day:
the day the wind took pity on me
and pulled me up and far away.
Far away across three borders,
across the seasons I would race
to where you could reach me no longer,
to where I’d never see your face.
Darling, I only think about you
when there’s poison in my veins.
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