Malady Darkfall
She speaks in tangents
from a scalpel tongued mouth
and when she licks her lips
splatters of crimson kisses
drip like lies
between luscious breasts.
Her whispers are harlots
that breathe close to taut skin
reveling in the slaps of wet flesh.
But her eyes are hollow
with a wisp of fading hope
that maybe someone
will stay to see
her battered soul.
3 comments:
I like the poem and image, they go nicely together.
oh damn. i am whittling time away around your archives and i seem to have been warped into another dimensions.
this one made me ache, max. too much, i think.
whoa. i was doing the same thing(going through the archives). this one is painfully beautiful...
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