Between our palms we hold Life and death; destruction and recreation; Between our palms we hold Life and death; destruction and recreation;

She forgot that her palms were made of flesh and blood, not of copper She forgot that her palms were made of flesh and blood, not of copper

This poem is about a person feeling cold and looking for warmth This poem is about a person feeling cold and looking for warmth

I don’t remember your face.But I remember the awkwardness with which you greet me,Afraid it will sho... I don’t remember your face.But I remember the awkwardness with which you greet m...

I don't know much about life, love, or war, I don't know much about life, love, or war,

Spilled the magic of your lies on a horizon painted by my demons. Spilled the magic of your lies on a horizon painted by my demons.