Hers move in sync with mine.
We taste like strawberries.
We smell like cigarettes and cheap wine,
but now she buries
her teeth as sharp as daggers
on my lower lip,
biting before licking the
blood she let drip, drip.
"Delicious." She whispers.
She's delighted that I'm hers.
Am I really?
Or is this our curse?
Are we malignant tumors,
poisonous though in love?
What if we try and we really do
with a push or a shove.
Will our lips taste as sweet as
a perfect splash of milk in our tea?
Will we be two teaspoons of sugar,
drip, drip of fancy?
DU LIEST GERADE
Dancing With The Devil (Poetry)
Poesie[HEAVY EDITING] Reminiscing encounters with the Devil. September 28,2018 - November 22,2018 This book is intended for mature readers only, as it contains graphic scenes and inappropriate language. TW // sexual violence, homophobia, nudity, bodily w...
