Michaelpoet

Loathing of Embers

Brown hair that smells of vanilla lavender.

Lipstick that sets fire to my lips.

Curves that ensure childbirth at will.

6:00 pm was a drug that kept a most innocent sailor intoxicated as he washed ashore.

As I found a trespass upon my heart that unforgiving afternoon in December I wept like a child.

A counterfit love that entered into matrimony without regard for the destruction it left in it\'s wake.

Is it better to have loved and lost?

A most hateful indiscretion to never again see the fog of the morning to come.

She could not have ensured her demise more assuredly without eating a pistol on a bed of full of unclipped thorns.