They are red from danger, because it is now summer. I cannot help
from smiling. Uprooting the cheer of bee’s sexcerzising the demons.
Like the lines beneath a skirt. You smell like opium and tears. You
feel like wind with warmth, as you fill the space so sweetly. I want to
be the memory to your scar, well call on me I won’t be far. I live for
the reflex of the last breath, a dream to vent in sensational flesh.
Dance with your anger, dance with your sorrow, dance with your devil
he’ll be gone tomorrow. Now that you are mine; I write about you like
the flower that blossoms by my window. It is dying but it is beautiful
each moments is precious. I smell it till it rots; The way I long for your
scent to blend into my skin like its perfume; I carry it into my half sleep
as my hands move unspeakably into the softest flesh.
by: Vanessa Matic