My Death

Full red lips
come together
so sensuous
so delicate.
They come together
and a sticky blob of
pink hubba bubba
is molded into a
large
round
bubble.

Her eyes–
eyes that steal
little, broken
pieces of my soul
with each passing
glance
meet my own,
sick gaze
my heart stops
a fire rises from my toes.
Closer and closer
it crawls
to my very core that
makes me human.

My girl, wicked child.
It’s all fun to her.
She doesn’t know,
she’ll never know how
she tortures me.
I feel my own death
creeping toward me
each time she shows
affection
in her twisted game of
catch and release.

My girl…

Oh how I want to indulge
in the sweet sweat of sin.
The way her lips
brushed against my own
haunts me like the ghost
of a damned soul.
The way she laced her fingers
between mine,
wearing her heart on her kiss.
My cheek pressed against hers,
rejecting the idea of
what should be.

Oh, if I could just die now.

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