she sipped on marigold chardonnays and pretty boys with liquid hearts. her pink flesh drowning deliberately in oceans of violet vodka- a little lime with a pinch of regret and salt. he dreamt of illicit moonlight making love to hammering temples, sunburnt concrete on chlorine-soaked skin. counting calories and his strange addiction to caliginosity and astronomy.
like the sun that chases the moon in an unfaltering cycle- clueless of the distance that disentangles their unsung blighted fate the universe had shrouded between the fabrics of white sheets and spaces between the lines of tragically fathomless poetry.
she had taught him how to ignite their bodies on fire along with all that surrounded them- but the moon held cracks tethering monsters capable of swallowing the sun whole- he was an ignorant one.
and though their bodies were a thousand miles apart- her soul had made love to his beneath the dainty crevices upon his body that slowly opened- liberating evil akin to the one that lingered in his teary orbs- foolish little girl had brought hell to heaven.
for when pieces of the dripping moon escaped from the corners of his crinkled eyes- he had poured a dash of sadistic evil into her beseeching mouth. now the light shines bright, but the shadows darker.
YOU ARE READING
guava achings ✓
Poetrybanquets of succulent peaches in tin cans and pretty boys with passionflowers blossoming from their cuticles.
