Poetry, Thoughtful

Impossible, improbable

Impossible, improbable
the taste of your lips draw me in
even when your harsh words
cut deep. Red-hazed passion
mixing with a riveting blue
spills from my tearducks,
in the shape of fractured stars.
My pink tongue tastes salt
even when I catch your lust-glazed eyes.

Pink flesh whetted by crimson,
a macabre painting stained by
salty blues and rusty reds.

A dark smile that bodes ill;
a revolutionary mission
challenges the insane to plead innocent
and the forsaken to enter eternity.

“Crave my dizzy kisses
and amateur misdirection
but push away my love
and watch the madness from above…”

 

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2 thoughts on “Impossible, improbable”

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