the vampire is a pretty young thing,
a soft-cheeked bird in silk and heels,
promising gentle touch and purple prose
and the ways you will be healed
and you drip rust for hurting her,
and you stitch your lips in shame,
and she tells you what black tears she cries
and never speaks your name
the vampire paints her parisian lies,
she talks a lot more than she does,
she bleeds your light and traces your palm
and swaddles you in her binding love
and she shuts her ears to rapist memory,
and she runs her mouth on painted dolls,
and you will run ragged on her silver dreams
and she will kill you for fuck all!
YOU ARE READING
almost pretty.
Poetrya collection of free-verse poetry. please vote, comment, and add to your library if you enjoy!
