Bleeding emeralds out of her eyes

she hobbled his unstable salvation with a kiss full of sharp teeth

as she dug her fists into the irresponsibility of his past

and pulled his beating pulse into the cheap modesty of a servile future

drenched in white pages and lace sleeves edged in blood

 

She came in fury pierced through with virtuous style

the gun like sleek love against the small of her back tucked into her hip huggers

his hopeless surrendering over blackjack in the bend of the table ironic

as she licked the salt off the rim of the martini glass

her inclination of hip against his thighs binding the broken arches of his age

into the masterpiece of her fragrant seduction

 

When she stood at the tower window with his thorns embe dded in her tongue

she was a child lost in the bitter waves of men without remorse

sickness edging the silver rose bouquets they laid at her tiny feet

before they took her cheek and laid it's angel softness against their fever lips

while confused she pulled back into a tulip flame

and mourned her skin from behind the sun

 

When she walked budding ghost thickets through Manhattan

the men wove their quick, cool hands through the golden locks of her hair

and her nightdress as she stood apart from the world

unwilling mistress thrashing against the cords of silk

as the gypsy songs deepened her into surrender

and he pressed his metal knife against her throat

then took her out to the cafe

where she gently struck the spoon against the china cup

shattering her body into bridal judgments

the container of cream upended and covering her thighs

he laughed

the sound like a stunned etching at the base of her spinal cord

 

She walks an atmosphere of violence and judges from the other side

her romance with tears long gone

the scarlet of their sins paralyzed against her voluptuous needs

as she moves into them and through them like a blade

thirsty for the battlefields of their bodies now bent over years

she smiles and crawls their sinuous souls with serpentine spine undulating

the fatal moments like candied swans morphing into trigger fingers of alloy;

she gave him a wire rose

lingered for a moment in his liquid desert eyes

"I must be leaving soon." she whispered, "but I wanted to tell you this."

"They told me way back in never land that if I made a dress out of skye, the moon

the sun and the donkey skin, that you would never find me, but you found me

every night and every day.  I never really had a chance, did I?"

"Stories are for children," said the monster, "there are no happy endings."

she flowered into blood above his nature

and put the silver bullet between his eyes

 

copyright:2009vssmd/amusemusepress

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED