Outwardly you had me when the spotlight hit you and you filled me with a lust, a hungry need to have you to myself and to feel you on my lips then slip you in. Surely when I had you I'd feel what I've felt before with each passing whiff and taste. Call it love, the lust for your life, to become what I wanted with your help and surrender.
So I took one to me and felt what it was like to have something without taste, without a glimmer of return, only hollow beauty of what I almost had--sadly I turned to take one more, always hopeful I was wrong at first, then trying another sweet taste for myself, but only slighting myself. Mocking myself without pity with the spotlight still on you enticing me back, guiding my hand into your deep, red-filled bowl.
You had me with your spotlight, and courageous colour you flaunted like a flag, glistening wet, as if by my sight, and cooed until I opened my hand, and parted lips to taste, then discovered your lie.
No comments:
Post a Comment