Poems, Musings, etcMature

In sleep he beckons

Rip her open

Make her scream in pain and pleasure

Kiss her sugarplum tears away

Never. Let. Her Go.

She turns an astute heel

Cold, cloaked and calm

The steam off streets surround her; fill her lungs with a dirty taste

Her heel falls, broken, bleeding and blue

Her eyes close but not for slumber

Her virtue stolen.



The End

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