Poison on my lips.
Cherry balm stings the ridges.
It cracks then peels the corners of my mouth.
She kisses me again. And again.
Despite the poison covering my lips.
I feel nothing.
She looks at me with hazel blue eyes.
Her blond, silky hair illuminated by moonlight.

She starts to eat at the crevices.
Sticking her tongue inside.
Biting at my insides.
Her right hand falls down below my gut.
Her left, on my heart.
She chews until a mix of lipstick and iron
drools from my face.
I feel no love from her.
Only vermilion anger.
Everytime, she slithers into my mouth.
The worm licks and growls.
Passion screams with her every peck.
What feels like a vulture,
devouring my neck.

My hands rest on her marbled skin.
Slow, steady strokes.
She knows, I dream of burnt sienna.
A lady with less divine features.
Someone I'd close my eyes to kiss.

I throw her down.
She looks at me blissfully, finally.
At last, the reciprocation she seeks.

Just a corpse on the floor.
As pale as the cracked, broken walls.
Her dam breaks
and I am flooded by memories.
The smell of cinnamon reminds me...

I get off the wet floor.
Dressing quickly, leaving the scene.
A dead body, crying in defeat.

© DolorTheDaimone