Their eyes shone at me with an seductive taste
Red crisom like blood melting down their skin as lipstick
They put off a dangerous collection of things I long for but shouldn’t need
As if their sweet nothings caused her not to be her own no more
The lingering thought that she once was your but not to keep
Red wine runs down her skin implying that there’s nothing left society hasn’t touched
The worlds horns pierced through her opinions like they weren’t worth of acknowledgement
Her grace left her soul as her body and mind entered the playground
These pitch forks directed her into a world of devils play, nothing more than the lustful taste of touch and zero tolerance to affection love.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from writers in Poets and other communities.
The Duelist
The rays of a dying red sun flashed against the onrushing blade. The grey beards say the key to dueling lies in size, speed, reach, righteous fury, whatever the person in front of them pays them to say. Matteo knew better than any it was none of these and had an undefeated record on these sands to prove it.
By Matthew J. Fromm5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.